Distorted picture: thanks to Photoshop, it's awfully easy to manipulate photographs, as a number of recent scandals make painfully clear. Misuse of the technology poses a serious threat to photojournalism's credibility.

If photo sleuths in Ohio hadn't noticed a pair of missing legs, Allan Detrich still would be cruising to assignments in his sleek blue truck, building his reputation as a photographer extraordinaire at the Toledo Blade. In April, the veteran shooter was forced out of the newsroom in disgrace, igniting a scandal that swept the photojournalism community. Coworkers were mystified about why a highly talented, hard worker who had garnered a slew of awards would cheat.

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Detrich says that for a time, he felt like the most "reviled journalist in the country." Internet forums buzzed about his misdeeds, and photographers attacked him for sullying the profession. Some even sent hateful e-mail messages. "I wasn't the first to tamper with news photos and, unfortunately, I probably won't be the last," he says. "I screwed up. I got caught."

In his case, he says, he was seduced by software that made altering images so easy that "anyone can do it."

With new technology, faking or doctoring photographs has never been simpler, faster or more difficult to detect. Skilled operators truly are like magicians, except they use tools like Photoshop, the leading digital imaging software, to create their illusions.

Detrich, who had worked for the Blade since 1989, manipulated most of the images while alone in his truck, using a cell phone or WiFi for quick and easy transmission to the photo desk. There was little reason for him to return to the newsroom to process images. Until April 5, no one challenged the veracity of his photographs.

The photographer's downfall underscores a disturbing reality: With readily accessible, relatively inexpensive imaging tools (Photoshop sells for around $650) and a low learning curve, the axiom "seeing is believing" never has been more at risk. That has led to doomsday predictions about documentary photojournalism in this country.

"The public is losing faith in us. Without credibility, we have nothing; we cannot survive," says John Long, chairman of the ethics and standards committee of the National Press Photographers Association. Long pushes for stricter newsroom standards with missionary zeal and believes all journalists are tarnished when someone like Detrich falls from grace.

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On June 2, Long, who built a distinguished career in photography at the Hartford Courant before retiring earlier this year, preached to an audience at NPPA's photo summit in Portland, Oregon. If the self-described purist had his way, news photographers would take a vow of abstinence in regard to photo altering; editors would enforce zero-tolerance policies. "The problem is far greater than we fear," Long told the group that afternoon.

There are no statistics on the number of rule-breakers, but indicators within the profession do not bode well for the cherished precept of visual accuracy.

During an NPPA ethics session in Portland, a group of some 50 photographers and photo managers were asked for a show of hands if they believed they had ever worked with peers who routinely crossed ethical boundaries. Nearly every arm flew into the air. "That was a scary thing to see," says Long, who was on the panel. Ethical breaches were the topic of conversation at coffee breaks and during presentations at the photo summit.

Many of the offending photos and illustrations discussed in Portland appear in a rogues' gallery posted by computer scientist Hany Farid (www.cs.dartmouth.edu/farid/research/digitaltampering).

Among the dozens he highlights are Time and Newsweek covers, a Pulitzer Prize-winning photo, images in the Charlotte Observer and Newsday, and a famous portrait of Abraham Lincoln that was discovered to be less than accurate.

The Dartmouth College professor uses the term "digital forensics" to describe pioneering methods to detect image altering. Although not a cure-all, these tools could provide help in the future, says Farid. He predicts that scandals over photo forgeries are "absolutely going to get worse." That notion is underlined by the attention being paid to the problem by media organizations and at conferences.

In August, visual communications expert David Perlmutter will serve on a panel titled "Seeing is Not Believing: Representations and Misrepresentations" at the Association for Education in Journalism and Mass Communication gathering in Washington, D.C. Perlmutter poses the question: "Is the craft I love being murdered, committing suicide or both?"

The Toledo Blade's descent into photo hell began with a telephone call.

On April 4, Ron Royhab, the paper's executive editor, returned home to find a message requesting he phone back, no matter how late. He punched in the number and listened in stunned silence to the voice on the other end. There were suspicions that a photographer had altered a news photo that had run prominently on the Blade's front page four days earlier. The caller was Donald R. Winslow, editor of News Photographer magazine, an NPPA publication.

"I was speechless; I couldn't collect my thoughts. I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach," recalls Royhab. "I got off the phone and thought, 'Not at my newspaper. It can't be!'"

By noon the next day, Detrich, 44, was being questioned in the newsroom. He admitted altering the photograph but said it was for his personal use, a copy he intended to hang on an office wall. He claimed he had mistakenly transmitted the wrong version on deadline. He told Photo District News, "that's not something I would do."

The paper's editors decided to review all of the photos that Detrich, twice named Ohio Photographer of the Year and a Pulitzer Prize finalist in 1998, had submitted for publication this year. They didn't like what they found. By April 7, he had resigned. If he had not, he would have been fired, says Royhab.

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The episode began on March 30, when Bluffton University's baseball team played for the first time since five of its athletes had been killed in a bus accident earlier that month. Photographers jostled for position as players knelt in front of banners bearing the names and uniform numbers of the dead.

When similar photos appeared in Cleveland's Plain Dealer, the Dayton Daily News and Ohio's Lima News the following day, a pair of legs clad in blue jeans was visible from behind one of the banners hanging from a fence. In Detrich's version, there was only grass under the banner, although he shot from roughly the same angle. Ohio photographers brought the mysterious disappearance to Winslow's attention.

A review of Detrich's original digital files revealed that he had habitually erased unwanted elements in photos, including people, tree limbs, utility poles, electrical wires, light switches and cabinet knobs. In some instances, he added tree branches or shrubbery. In one sports shot he added a hockey puck; in another he inserted a basketball.

Detrich submitted 947 photographs for publication from January through March of 2007. Editors found that 79 clearly had been doctored. The paper apologized to readers and Detrich posted a mea culpa on his Web site (detrichpix.typepad.com/allandetrich_picturethis). The investigation found that Detrich had altered photos as far back as 2002. The Blade noted that no evidence of tampering was discovered on Detrich's award-winning photos, and there were no alterations in earlier years, when he was shooting on film and editing and processing in the newsroom.

In the May issue of News Photographer, Winslow ran a report on the situation at the Blade and labeled Detrich a "serial digital manipulator," the most prolific to surface in newspaper history.

As for the legs, it turned out they belonged to freelancer Madalyn Ruggiero, who was shooting in Bluffton for the Chicago Tribune and had positioned herself behind the fence in search of a different angle.

Brian Walski had covered war in the Balkans, famine in Africa and conflict in Kashmir before he made a fateful decision while on assignment in Iraq for the Los Angeles Times. The Chicago native was fired via satellite phone on April 1, 2003, after it was discovered he used his computer to combine two images, taken seconds apart, into a composite that ran on page one of the Times on March 31. The subject was a British soldier helping Iraqi civilians find cover outside Basra.

After the photos appeared, an employee at the Hartford Courant noticed that several Iraqis in the background appeared twice (see Drop Cap, May 2003). The Courant, which like the Times is owned by the Tribune Co., had also published the picture.

In an e-mail to the newspaper's photo staff, Walski, who had been with the Times since 1998 and had won Photographer of the Year honors in California, wrote: "This was after an extremely long, hot and stressful day but I offer no excuses here.... I have always maintained the highest ethical standards throughout my career and cannot truly explain my complete breakdown in judgment at this time. That will only come in the many sleepless nights that are ahead."

Colin Crawford, the L.A. Times' assistant managing editor for photography, calls Walski "incredibly experienced and talented" and says there was no hint of wrongdoing before the lapse. A review of his work found no other evidence of tampering.