TOWN SEES METH EXPLODE

Owensville Faces Its Own Big Crime

OWENSVILLE, Ind. -- The items displayed in the glass case in Rodger
Leister's office are visual aids about the dope business.

Stolen prescription pills. Marijuana pipes. Crack cocaine pipes.

But the main focus of the display is methamphetamine: precursors for
making it, syringes for injecting it, pieces of burnt aluminum foil after
it's been smoked.

"I saw my first meth lab in 1998," says the 37-year-old town marshal of
the small Gibson County town (population about 1,300). "The use has
exploded since then. It's practically everywhere. Definitely not just in
Owensville."

Leister steps over a pile of Christmas decorations to get to his evidence
room.

"Here's an assault rifle I took from a guy high on meth. You don't know
what the drug people will do when they've been up 15 straight days. The
paranoia just takes over."

He shows an inner tube that was used to steal anhydrous ammonia, a key
ingredient in the manufacture of the drug.

"Here's the seven gallon tank they used. Probably took about three minutes
to fill."

On the shelf is a .22-caliber rifle with an add-on silencer. It came from
a traffic stop when he arrested a man who had drug-making supplies in his
vehicle.

Leister has been conducting meth awareness classes in and around Owensville.

"The younger people pretty much know what's up with drugs. It's the older
ones you have to educate. I tell them to call my house if they see
something suspicious, or even leave a note in the town's night deposit
box."

He laughs.

"One time somebody brought a mobile meth lab to my house. That is highly
unstable and highly dangerous. I had to call the state police to get it
out. I didn't want to get blown up."

Leister has been marshal for two years. Jason Wright is his deputy. They
are the lone paid lawmen. Two reserve volunteers help out during
vacations.

"I'm not getting rich, and I'm putting in 60 and 70 hours a week," Leister
says. "But I'm doing what I enjoy. For extra money, I mow some
cemeteries."

The Owensville resident and his wife, Vicki, have three children and are
guardians of three more. They occasionally take in foster children from
parents who have gotten in trouble for drugs.

It's time for Rodger Leister to go on patrol. He climbs into the 2006 Dodge.

"I've arrested people for dope that I went to school with. Usually they
don't want to look me in the eye. They put their heads down and apologize.

"But it's not just the folks in town. I get plenty of men and women from
Vanderburgh and Warrick counties who think they can come to our small town
and get away with it."

He pulls over next to Superior Ag where there are several tanks of anhydrous.

"We get a lot of thefts here. One time these guys were trying to steal
some and there was a leak of about 1,000 gallons. It formed a huge cloud,
and we thought we might have to evacuate some people. Lucky for us, it
blew away in the right direction."

The job definitely has a small-town feel. He's been called to chase bats
out of a dwelling. And a snake.

He's still trying to find the rightful owner of a bicycle that's next to
the rifle in the evidence room.

The lawman knows most people in town. He smiles and waves to passers-by.
He wears a bulletproof vest.

"At least six times I've stopped cars and found fully-loaded guns in the
vehicle along with the dope. You have to protect yourself."

He turns down a gravel road not far from Owensville Community School.

"I guarantee that if we walk this field in warm weather, we'll find all
kinds of meth trash. Punched ether cases. Coffee filters. Residue from the
cooking process.

"Meth cuts across all class levels. Attorneys, police officers, business
owners -- anybody can fall prey to it. As the economy worsens, I'm afraid
we'll see more."

Leister drives to the Andrew Smith Cemetery.

"They like to cook meth out here," he says, picking up a small bottle that
once contained anhydrous. "It's a good, safe place because you can see so
far in every direction. By the time you get a cop car out here, they're
long gone."

He debunks any talk that the meth community is a brotherhood.

"They're friends until one gets caught, and then they'll (inform) on each
other like crazy. They might think they have friends, but it doesn't work
out that way."

Leister recalls the case of a longtime drug user.

"We started seeing all these cards downtown that had 'M-E-T-H' in big
letters with this guy's name and address on the back. We knocked on his
door, and he had a line of meth on an open Bible and a 100-pound cylinder
full of anhydrous in his closet. He probably cheated somebody, and that's
why they ratted him out."