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Reduced now to ruins, the old Essex County Jail remains a sinister
and forbidding place. Its rotting doors, barely hanging, are open
to anyone who wants to get in, or out. There are fissures in the
corroded roof, providing some cells with views of the wide-open
sky. Even empty, the dark, cavernous cellblocks evoke echoes of
bedlam.
In the 1800's, murderers were
hanged here. In 1967, the cells were crammed with people arrested
during Newark's race riots. But the most vivid picture that remains
is of the suspects investigated by the county's Bureau of Narcotics
Control, which used the building as its headquarters after the jail
closed in 1970.
Strewn throughout the prison's
cellblocks and offices, amid the trash and other debris left by
squatters and drug addicts, are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of
law enforcement records left behind by the narcotics bureau when
it moved out in 1989.
The records, dating from about
1970 to the mid-1980's, include arrest reports, police booking photos,
rap sheets, transcripts of wiretapped phone conversations, search
warrants and lists of evidence.
Many of the subjects of the
records are still alive. Some went to prison. Some still live in
New Jersey. And the squatters who have ready access to the building
could easily find information about them, including their addresses
and Social Security numbers.
By state law, none of the documents
should be there. According to New Jersey's mandatory ''records retention
and disposition schedule,'' every item left in the old jail should
have been destroyed or placed in secure, permanent files. Instead,
they lie matted under broken beer bottles and stuck together in
wet, moldy cardboard boxes. In most cases, the type and the handwriting
are legible. The photographs are clear.
''I am working, a law-abiding
citizen,'' said one woman whose booking photo, fingerprint card
and rap sheet were left in the old jail.

The woman, who lives in Newark
and agreed to discuss her criminal past on the condition of anonymity,
was charged with possessing drugs and stolen property in 1986 and
served time in jail. ''I am actually shocked,'' she said when told
where the documents were found. ''It could have gotten into the
wrong hands and done damage to a lot of people.''
The Essex County Sheriff, Armando
B. Fontoura, said county officials were supposed to have destroyed
the documents after the narcotics bureau left. ''The county was
responsible for removing all the data, bringing the shredder in,''
Sheriff Fontoura said.
The sheriff said members of
the Sheriff's Department, including the director of the narcotics
bureau, Robert Scarillo, had looked over the materials and concluded
that nothing important had been left there.
He said he had asked the county
several times to increase security at the former jail, noting that
two people had been found dead in the building after overdosing
on drugs. The most recent victim was found in 1997.
Told of Sheriff Fontoura's
remarks, the Essex County Administrator, Vincent A. DiMauro, said
on Friday that he would direct the Public Works Department to clear
out the old jail.
Mr. DiMauro said he visited
the jail about 10 months ago in response to reports of squatters
and had noticed file boxes but did not see the records themselves.
Public works crews were dispatched
to the jail today, said Jay Hochberg, a county spokesman. Mr. Hochberg
said the workers had asked two squatters to leave, removed some
records and barricaded the jail's entrance. He said the records
would probably be shredded.
''I will make sure our people
take a look,'' Mr. DiMauro said on Friday, ''assemble that data,
make sure the sheriff's people look at it and make sure it's stuff
that should be destroyed.''
The abandoned records could
pose legal problems for county officials, said Alan L. Zegas, president
of the Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers of New Jersey.
''Let's say that an individual
had his or her record expunged,'' he said, ''and expungement requires
the destruction of the underlying records, and now they are out
on the street and can fall into anyone's hands. It's wrong.''
The potential legal liabilities
include defamation, invasion of privacy and slander, Mr. Zegas said.
''If somebody has not been
convicted of any crime but was simply investigated, leaving records
out publicly exposes the individual to very severe harm to reputation
as well as potential invasion of privacy.''
In addition, Mr. Zegas said, some of the records may reveal confidential
information, like the names of victims and police informers. And
the state could be exposed to lawsuits by the victims of crimes
stemming from the discovery of the documents, he said.
The records, it seems, got
lost in the shuffle sometime in 1989 after a dispute arose between
the County Executive at the time, Nicholas Amato, and Thomas J.
D'Alessio, then the sheriff, over the use of the jail by the narcotics
bureau. Mr. Amato wanted the bureau to move so the county could
sell the building. The county still owns it.
The matter ended up in State
Superior Court in Newark, where Judge Harry A. Margolis ordered
the building evacuated because of structural damage and other dangerous
conditions. The narcotics bureau set up trailers and a tent in a
parking lot near the building and worked from there for about six
months, said James C. Finkle, a longtime supervisor in the Sheriff's
Department.

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Mr. Finkle said the documents
were probably forgotten when the bureau moved to new offices.
Designed by John Haviland,
who also designed the original jail known as the Tombs in lower
Manhattan, the Essex County Jail was built in 1837, a year after
Newark was incorporated, and served as the county's main penitentiary
for 133 years. It is the oldest government building still standing
in the city and was listed on the National Register of Historic
Places in 1991. Later that year, it was used to film scenes for
Spike Lee's movie ''Malcolm X.''
Plans are moving forward for
a $350 million science park, featuring an international center for
public health, on 14 acres of land surrounding the building. The
former jail may one day become part of the science park, perhaps
used as a power-generating plant, which would allow its outer structure
to be preserved.
When the jail closed, the Bureau
of Narcotics Control was a multiagency task force financed largely
by the Federal Government, with investigators from municipal police
departments and the county sheriff's and Prosecutor's offices who
worked with Federal agencies, including the Drug Enforcement Administration.
Richard M. Roberts, a former
assistant county prosecutor who directed the bureau from about 1970
to 1981, said the jail building was used in part to keep the squad
separate from the Prosecutor's main offices, which are in the county
courthouse.
''The narcotics squad uses
confidential informants and things of that nature,'' he said, ''and
to have them parading before the courts and the people going to
court would be counterproductive. We used it as administrative offices.
We kept evidence there in some of the cells.''
Some of the old jail's administrative
offices were also used to monitor and record wiretapped conversations.
Today, dozens of transcripts of such conversations, in official
D.E.A. logs, are still in the decrepit offices, piled on rusting
metal desks.
Mr. Roberts, who left the bureau
for a private law practice in 1981, said that from the outset, jail
cells were used as storage rooms. ''We had a detective in charge
of evidence, and deep in the bowels of the old jail we kept evidence
that we confiscated and kept until trial,'' he said. ''If it were
narcotics, we kept it for a certain period of time and then we burned
it. We kept it until the case was over and the appeals time was
gone.''
One of the more bizarre reports
found in the old jail details the arrests in the mid-1980's of two
men charged with breaking into the building and stealing items from
the bureau's own offices, including nine portable radios, a television
set, two typewriters, a sheriff's badge, a leather holster for a
9-millimeter gun and two loaded ammunition clips.
Even more bizarre is a memo
about an incident that occurred while the burglary was being investigated.
''During the course of the above investigation,'' Detective Arthur
Lang wrote, ''Detectives Calvin Thomas, Derrick Westry and the undersigned
seized one military rocket launcher in front of 8 Sheffield Drive
in the city of Newark, New Jersey. Said launcher was turned over
to the evidence office.'

But most of the documents are
routine, detailing charges against various suspects and the efforts
of the law enforcement agents who investigated them. Architects,
engineers and other planners working on the science park have made
many inspections of the old jail, almost always escorted by the
police.
Dillon Waltner, administrative
and technical coordinator for University Science Park Inc., the
company developing the park, and others who have visited the building
say they noticed the abandoned records and other evidence, including
a roomful of confiscated gambling machines. ''There are still quite
a few old files that are in there,'' Mr. Waltner said. ''It's a
scary place, isn't it?''
Another person who noticed
the discarded records was Camilo Vergara, a Manhattan photographer
and historian who is working on a book about American ruins. Earlier
this month, Mr. Vergara toured the building with a reporter and
two historians, Kenneth T. Jackson of Columbia University and Clement
A. Price of Rutgers University.
''You see those records and
all the time people took in putting those records together,'' Mr.
Vergara said. ''They have bearing on people who for all you know
may be walking right outside.''
Mr. Vergara said he was drawn
to the old jail for its architecture and history and had been awed
by the eeriness of a place that once housed as many as 400 prisoners
and where gallows once stood in a courtyard. ''It's a wonderful
building,'' he said. ''It is a real ruin, with the smells, with
the dilapidation, the paint falling, the plaster falling. This is
not a flimsy structure. It was built to last.''
David V. Abramson, a Newark
architect who was hired by University Science Park to conduct a
study on possible uses for the building, has suggested that it be
used as a power-generating plant.
''It's an incredible structure,
one of grandeur and decay,'' said Mr. Abramson, adding that he expected
any plans for the building to be hotly debated. ''This has been
and will continue to be and will become a controversial issue. The
historic preservation community looks at this, rightly, as a very
significant resource.''
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