I was born in Milwaukee in October 1977—my parents’ “golden child” after two heartbreaking pregnancy losses. From the start, I was driven to succeed, gifted academically, athletically strong, and determined to make my family proud. But beneath the surface was a child learning early that love felt conditional, that performance mattered more than presence, and that vulnerability was something to hide.
We moved five times before I started high school in Eden Prairie, MN. While my home was loving and stable in many ways, there was no close father-son bond. Our family emphasized perfectionism and appearances, and I absorbed the message that achievement was everything. Still, nothing ever felt good enough—not to my parents, and eventually, not to myself.
At age 11, I was put on a diet—probably because I was a competitive swimmer with a few extra pounds in a Speedo. That moment lit the spark of an eating disorder that would evolve into severe anorexia in high school, then bulimia, and eventually decades of disordered eating, depression, and anxiety. But no one knew. I smiled. I performed. I excelled.
I studied business and pre-med at the University of Minnesota. My college years were a blur of academics, leadership positions, and volunteer work—but little joy. I rarely went out. I didn’t have fun. I was constantly performing and pushing myself to the brink.
Just before graduation, I met the woman who would become my wife. We navigated a long-distance relationship for a while and into my first year of medical school at the University of Minnesota. I always excelled academically, but medical school was extremely difficult for me, and I struggled profoundly. I was severely depressed and nearly dropped out that first semester. That was also when I discovered alcohol—and for the first time, I allowed myself to connect socially with my medical school friends. I actually failed my initial attempt to pass my first board exam, which ended any chance of pursuing the most competitive specialties.
We got married in 2003 in a Catholic mission church in Napa Valley. It was beautiful, and life seemed full of promise. But tragedy struck in 2004 when my wife found out she was pregnant while I was away on a medical rotation in South Carolina. We both wanted to have kids, but this didn’t fit her plan, her timing, her ambitions. So against my will and with nothing I could do from across the country, she chose to have an abortion—something I had always been deeply opposed to. I didn’t protect my child. I couldn’t stop her. I felt helpless, and I buried the grief. I didn’t know how to mourn this loss. I told no one and tried to just keep going. It devastated me and I never fully recovered from my shame of her decision.
I began residency in Internal Medicine and Pediatrics at UT-Houston in 2005, but then I switched to Anesthesiology in 2006. The workload was intense—on call for 30+ hours every few nights—but I absolutely loved it and often picked up extra shifts to support our soon to be growing family. Around this time, we left the Catholic Church and became active in a Bible-based non-denominational church, where I was baptized again and began to really grow spiritually for the first time.
Our first son was born in 2007, followed by a second son in 2008. I cherished fatherhood—doing night feedings, walks with the stroller, bedtime routines, baths and stories, every single night I wasn’t working on call. We eventually had two daughters in 2010 and 2012. Fatherhood was the one role in my life where I didn’t feel I had to perform. I could simply love.
In January 2010, we moved to Kansas, where I joined a large anesthesiology practice. My career thrived. I was promoted, took on leadership roles at the hospital, participated in corporate governance, and became active in state and national anesthesiology societies. But I still felt empty. Despite the success, I never felt respected, valued, or truly fulfilled.
As in childhood, life had to look perfect—especially in our affluent, high-pressure suburban community. My wife and social media fed the illusion. More, better, bigger. Achievement was currency. Comparison was constant. I never felt like I could rest.
Tensions at work escalated. I was frustrated with the healthcare system, with administration, insurance, and pharmaceutical interference, and the politics of our specialty created stress in the workplace. I felt stuck under an expansive non-compete clause, unable to explore other options. Then I was recruited into a telemedicine opportunity involving durable medical equipment and later, compounded pain creams.
This was where I made the greatest mistake of my life.
I became involved in a telemedicine model that did not comply with Medicare rules. Over the course of about 18 months, providers billed millions of dollars in my name. Some of this was through my direct involvement; some of it occurred when others forged my signature and used my credentials without authorization. But I allowed the environment to exist. I didn’t stop it. I didn’t say no. I failed to supervise properly, and I ignored red flags. It was my responsibility, and I take full ownership of my role in what happened.
In April 2018—in the morning post-call after an overnight shift, and in the midst of selling and moving out of our house—I lost my anesthesiology partnership job. It was the beginning of a painful unraveling. I found work in west-central Missouri, commuting nearly 90 minutes each direction. We moved into what we thought was our dream house, and I tried to press forward. In 2019, I learned I was under federal investigation. I immediately stopped the DME and pain cream telemedicine activity and anything that involved Medicare.
In August 2021, while out to dinner with my wife and some friends, I learned from a colleague of the DOJ press release – I had been indicted for felony healthcare fraud. That was the end of my anesthesia career.
My marriage crumbled. I was banished to the basement. Eventually, I moved out. I started a new job with a friend at a functional and regenerative medicine clinic. The work was meaningful, and something I had hoped to get into eventually, but the financial impact was severe. My wife and I divorced in 2022.
Dating again was confusing and hard, but I found love from a woman that fully supported me despite my failures. In summer 2024, I got engaged to a woman who helped lead me back to the Catholic Church. After years away, I returned to the sacraments. Confession was powerful and healing. For the first time, I began to believe that I could be forgiven. That maybe I was more than the worst thing I had done.
But the consequences weren’t over. In July 2024, I was taken into custody and forced to undergo a second psychiatric evaluation to determine my competency—an ordeal that spanned four months, numerous transfers, seven jails, and three states. I was set to go to trial in April 2025, but I knew I couldn’t go forward without taking full responsibility. On April 4, I stood before the judge and pled guilty to one felony count of healthcare fraud. My sentencing is currently scheduled for summer 2025.
I accept and carry my guilt; but more than that, I’ve carried a toxic weight of shame for years. Through my fiancée and my family, the church, men’s groups, confession, and a powerful Christ Renews His Parish retreat, I came to believe what I never had before: I am a beloved son. I am not just a felon. Not just a failure. I am a good and loving man who made deeply wrong choices—and I am doing the hard, lifelong work of reconciliation and repair.
I hurt people, especially my kids and family. I betrayed the trust that came with my medical license and title. But I am not hiding. I am not blaming. I am not running. I am committed to making amends, to restoring what can be restored, and to building a life grounded in truth, faith, humility, and service.
I am a sinner. I am a father striving to reconcile with my kids. I am a doctor, no longer practicing anesthesia. I am a convicted felon. I am also a man being redeemed—one day at a time. God has a plan for me. I am a good and loving man, and I have a lot to offer others. I will not give up.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
April 5, 2025
Dear Patients and Colleagues,
I am writing to offer a transparent and honest account of the legal case against me, the circumstances that led to my guilty plea, and to address recent media coverage surrounding these events. My goal is to take full responsibility for my actions, to clarify what occurred, and to express my deep and sincere remorse for the harm I have caused.
Background and Initial Intentions
Beginning in late 2015, I found myself increasingly burned-out practicing anesthesiology in a traditional healthcare system—an environment further complicated by a restrictive non-compete clause that limited my ability to explore other professional opportunities. In 2017, I was approached online with an offer to participate in telemedicine, which at the time was a rapidly emerging model of care.
The concept intrigued me. Telemedicine offered a novel way to serve patients while minimizing reliance on surgeries and opioids. It also appeared to offer a path out of the operating room and into a more sustainable and meaningful role in patient care. With sincere intentions, I joined a company offering pain management solutions, such as orthotic braces and topical pain relief creams, believing that I could still help people while exploring a new direction in my career. Sadly, this decision ultimately led me down a path of serious mistakes—mistakes I deeply regret.
Errors in Judgment and Acceptance of Responsibility
What began with good intentions quickly unraveled. I was lied to and manipulated by multiple individuals with unethical motives, and I failed to recognize red flags that, as a physician, I had a duty to identify and address. I was ensured that direct patient interaction was unnecessary and that I could rely solely on patient chart information to prescribe treatments. A woman claiming to be a nurse assured me that she and her team were contacting patients on my behalf and gathering proper medical histories. I have since learned this was false. She did the same thing to numerous physicians through multiple companies, and she profited millions. She later pleaded guilty for her actions.
Although I was repeatedly misled, I acknowledge that the responsibility to ensure ethical and legal compliance was ultimately mine. I failed to verify the integrity of the process. That failure—known in legal terms as willful blindness or deliberate ignorance—was a serious breach of my responsibilities as a physician, and I accept that assessment without excuse.
The Telemedicine Process and Its Breakdown
Initially, the consultation volume was limited and manageable. Some online platforms allowed me to review records and make independent clinical decisions. However, one company used a Docusign-style system with pre-filled electronic documents that left no room for modification. These documents, which I was told reflected patient requests, could be signed with just a few clicks. Though efficient, this process was deeply flawed.
As the volume of consultations grew and I obtained licenses in multiple states, I became more removed from the care process. Compensation—typically $30 to $35 per consultation, regardless of what or whether any treatment was prescribed—further blurred my judgment. I continued processing forms through a system that gave me no ability to verify or change orders. Furthermore, I’ve come to learn that the company’s owner fraudulently altered many of these documents before resubmitting the claims to Medicare, which significantly amplified the financial impact of my participation.
The Investigation and Its Aftermath
My involvement in these telemedicine activities spanned from late 2017 to early 2019. When I learned of a federal investigation in the spring of 2019, I ceased all involvement. During and after this period, I also participated in separate, cash-based telemedicine services that were not part of the fraudulent activities. However, the government’s financial claims combined income and conduct across both roles, also covering a broader period of time.
To complicate matters, my credentials—including my name, signature, and provider ID—were taken and misused by others, including the aforementioned “nurse,” to submit numerous fraudulent orders in multiple states and even internationally. Though these actions were taken without my knowledge or consent, I acknowledge that my initial involvement created the conditions for this misuse. I take full accountability for the role I played in enabling it.
By accepting a plea agreement, I am acknowledging my responsibility and taking the first step toward making amends—for myself, my family, and the medical community. This decision reflects my commitment to accountability, growth, and transparency.
Personal Reflection and Commitment to Moving Forward
As a Christian, a physician, and a father, I have always strived to act with integrity and compassion. I entered this field to help others and believed I was doing so through telemedicine. I never imagined that my actions would violate the law. And yet, they did. I am truly sorry for the financial harm caused to the government. While no patients were physically harmed, and no individuals lost personal funds, I understand the broader implications for public resources and the trust placed in physicians.
Since 2019, I have worked hard to rebuild my life and career, focusing on ethical, compliant, and compassionate patient care. I have maintained my clinical practice with renewed vigilance and a deepened sense of responsibility. The road ahead will bring additional challenges, and I am prepared to face them. My priority remains serving my patients with the highest standards of care and professionalism.
I am profoundly grateful to those who have supported me through this difficult chapter. I hope that in time, I can rebuild the trust I have lost—through my actions, not just my words. Thank you for reading this. I hope it provides clarity, context, and reassurance of my continued dedication to doing what is right.
Sincerely,
Dr. Scott Roethle
