STATE COLLEGE OFFICERS KEEP CLOSE EYE ON CONFISCATIONS

STATE COLLEGE -- The statue of a saint sits high atop a shelf in the
corner of State College police's evidence and property room, his eyes
cast upward. Nearby, more than a dozen cases of beer and enough
bottles of liquor to keep even the busiest downtown bar in business
through spring rest on a set of shelves.

A refrigerator packed with DNA samples and rape kits sits in one
corner. Two framed photo collages taken from fraternity houses are
propped against the wall. A paper bag sealed with red tape, according
to its tag, holds items taken from an apartment -- a comforter and a
package of condoms that police hope will hold some clue about a
reported sexual assault. Nearby, another sealed paper bag's tag says
it holds clothing worn by a man who pleaded guilty to murder charges
late last year.

The keeper of the room, certified evidence and property specialist
Cpl. Rick Ososkie, surveys the orderly chaos with a good-natured smile.

"Basically, it's a storage room," he said. "It's not unlike a
Wal-Mart warehouse."

The importance of organized, secure evidence storage came into the
national spotlight during the O.J. Simpson trial in 1995, Ososkie
said, when defense lawyers hammered away at the reliability of the
evidence. Troubling, too, are incidents around the country where
police officers and officials are caught stealing from the room, or
when outsiders break in to take items, Ososkie said.

The evidence room at the police department was designed to eliminate
the possibility that evidence can be left unattended and unsecure,
Ososkie said.

In the hallway wall near the evidence room is a wall of lockers,
their doors ajar. When a police officer has evidence or property to
put in the room, he or she puts it in an open locker and shuts the
door. Then, no one can access it until Ososkie or one of the other
evidence room keyholders comes in and accesses the lockers through a
padlocked door inside the room itself.

"When something comes in, it's logged and assigned a position,"
Ososkie said. "Each time it leaves or comes back, it's documented."

Within the evidence room, there's another locked room marked with the
logo for Miller Genuine Draft beer, a playful way to note what's
actually kept there: Money, guns and drugs.

The smell of marijuana -- seized by police during an ongoing drug
investigation -- permeates the small, windowless room. Paper bags and
manila envelopes line the shelves. A rack of shotguns takes up most
of one wall, and a file cabinet opposite them is stuffed with drugs
and weapons scheduled to be destroyed.

Ososkie goes through one of the file drawers carefully, pulling out a
dagger, a leaded sap and a Derringer smaller than the palm of his
hand. Some of the items in this room have been set aside for display,
although the police department does not have place for that yet.
Others have been marked for destruction, Ososkie said.

"Drugs gets burned, and guns get melted," Ososkie said. "The booze is
poured down the sink."

But property is a different story. Found items are usually kept in
the room for at least 30 days, Ososkie said, while police attempt to
locate and notify the owner. From there, the items are either thrown
away or sent to auction. Any money made at auction goes into the
borough's budget.

But cash and more valuable items, like jewelry, must be turned over
to the state, Ososkie said. When officers confiscate kegs from
parties and return them to the distributor, the refund money must
also be sent to the state.

As he shows two visitors around the room, he points out some of the
odder items -- homemade potato guns, a leopard-spotted marijuana bong
and a very expensive-looking bicycle.

"Most of the bikes we find are stored at the impound lot," he said.
"But this one is almost new and very expensive. I'd like to find the
owner, but we haven't been able to. If we can't, we'll probably sell
it on eBay, because we won't get anything for it at an auction."