Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: TUESDAY, May 17, 1994                   TAG: 9405170148
SECTION: VIRGINIA                    PAGE: B-4   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: By PATRICIA DAVIS THE WASHINGTON POST
DATELINE: FAIRFAX                                LENGTH: Medium

CHAPLAIN WAS ARRESTING OFFICER, NOW PRISONERS' TRUSTED FRIEND

He got the nickname while slipping in and out of the drug world, where his reputation as a narcotics investigator quickly spread: No sooner would the officer throw someone in jail than he would turn around and try to help the person out.

Now Holsberg's got a new name and it's a national one: 1993 Chaplain of the Year. And it's engraved on a plaque in the very hall he used to help fill.

Three years ago, Holsberg became senior chaplain of the Fairfax County jail, overseeing 30 weekly worship services and 266 volunteers from 50 county churches.

That's what he was doing when he received word recently of the award from the Good News Jail and Prison Ministry, a Northern Virginia organization that trains and places chaplains in jails and prisons across the United States and in four foreign countries.

Holsberg's chapel, on the second floor of the Fairfax Adult Detention Center, has peach-colored walls, blue plastic chairs and bars on the windows. It is known informally as the Church of the ADC. Its congregants include murderers, rapists, drug dealers and robbers.

Although the ministry helps as many as 15,000 inmates each year, for security reasons the chapel is limited to 30 inmates at a time. But once inside the chapel, there are no sheriff's deputies, no handcuffs and no one giving orders.

``They come in here, and they have an opportunity to focus on something positive,'' Holsberg said. ``We are not here to coddle inmates but to help them and to teach them and to encourage them.''

In addition to holding church services, Holsberg and his army of volunteers conduct Bible classes and counsel inmates, 95 percent of whom have substance-abuse problems. In January alone, his office responded to 458 requests for one-on-one counseling.

Holsberg touches many lives, including that of 21-year-old Marcus White, a trusty in the jail awaiting sentencing for selling cocaine. White said he feels comfortable talking to the chaplain about his problems, whether they involve a girlfriend or a fellow inmate.

``He's down-to-earth,'' White said. ``He makes me feel like someone cares.''

Holsberg, who talks in a booming voice and jokes about his ``captive audience,'' spends about 50 hours a week inside a jail that was designed to hold 589 but usually has about 1,000 men and women crammed into its cellblocks. His duties include notifying inmates when relatives have died, and some days he may have several such wrenching visits.

He spends another 50 hours a week out in the community, seeking volunteers and contributions for the ministry, which is not supported by tax dollars.

With a Bible tucked under one arm, Holsberg negotiates the maze of terrazzo floors with boundless energy, greeting inmates and deputies alike with a friendly smile.

Sometimes as he makes his rounds, he bumps into an inmate he locked up back when he was on the beat. Although he quit the Fairfax police force in 1989 - ending a 22-year career that began in Norfolk - some of the inmates he arrested already have had two return trips behind bars.

Holsberg was raised in the Lutheran Church, but he didn't grow up with an interest in the ministry. Then one day, he said, his then 5-year-old daughter came home and announced she wanted to be baptized.

Slowly, his own faith grew. By 1982 - while still chasing criminals - he had received a master's of divinity degree. Seven years later, he traded his badge for a Bible and became executive director of CONCORD Ministries, a national drug- and alcohol-abuse ministry that he founded in Reston.

Carl Peed, now the county sheriff, encouraged Holsberg to apply for the $30,000-a-year chaplain job. After devoting nearly half of his life to the criminal justice system, Holsberg initially wanted to spread the gospel in another setting.

But he took the job at the jail, where his wife, Robbie, works alongside him as a volunteer assistant chaplain. Although he acknowledges that the setting can be depressing, almost overwhelmingly so, he said he can't imagine any place he'd rather work.

``If he has a flaw, it's that you have to hold him back,'' said Wayne Huggins, former sheriff and now superintendent of the Virginia State Police. ``He's so energetic. Karl is one of the finest, most decent persons I know.''