On the evening of April 14, just hours after he is accused of flashing a fake police badge, coaxing a 13-year-old boy into his car and ordering the teenager to undress under the pretext of a strip search, Eric Abrams walked into a classroom at the University of San Francisco and returned to his life as a graduate student in sports management.

There, Abrams slipped into his more familiar world, where he lived as graduate of Stanford, all-time leading scorer in school football history, 1991 national high school Player of the Year, 4.0 student, former teenage philanthropist and "model son" of an attorney and an endocrinologist.

The next morning, Abrams flew to Denver for a three-day trip. While there, he interviewed for an internship with the Denver Broncos, caught up on old times with a former Little League teammate he hadn't seen in a dozen years and watched the Denver Nuggets go through a morning shootaround before their final home game of the season.

Less than a month later, the 24-year-old sits in a jail cell in San Jose facing two felony charges stemming from separate incidents involving young boys. Five other potentially more serious felony counts await in San Francisco. Abrams has pleaded not guilty to the South Bay charges, and a preliminary hearing is scheduled for Monday in San Jose.

In Abrams, the court will find a man who is believed to have been living two disparate lives: a high achiever born to professional parents in a comfortable suburb of San Diego, and a quiet enigma with a troubled history that may run much deeper than once believed.

Accusations of illegal activities first surfaced in early 1996, but police investigators now allege Abrams' illicit actions were far more extensive and trace back much further than previously reported.

"This went as far back as when he was in high school," said Sgt. Phil Zaragoza of the Santa Clara Police Department.

Furthermore, conversations with former friends, ex-coaches, one-time employers and assorted others make it clear Abrams has managed to keep his two lives separate for some time now.

Neither Abrams nor any of his family members would comment for this story. But his attorney, Phil Pennypacker of San Jose, said Abrams suffers from an obsessive-compulsive disorder and that the alleged incidents, if true, have stemmed from a failure to take medication.

In February 1996, Abrams was arrested for posing as a Stanford football recruiter and tricking some high school athletes into sending him nude photos of themselves under the guise of studying their musculature. Zaragoza, the lead investigator in the case, said his probe revealed Abrams made frequent obscene and / or annoying phone calls to

"acquaintances" while in high school, perhaps as many as 100.

This, as Abrams was emerging as one of the most sought-after high school kickers in the nation, so well-thought of that he made 12 All-America teams and was named the Parade Magazine national Player of the Year - both for his football prowess and for collecting $21,000 on behalf of the Make-A-Wish Foundation for each successful kick during his career at La Jolla Country Day School near San Diego.

"Honestly, there was nothing in his character that gave any indication into anything like this," said Rick Woods, who was Abrams' high school football coach and has known him for 15 years. "It's not the Eric I knew."

In the '96 case, though Abrams was charged with just seven instances of phone harassment, Zaragoza said his probe showed Abrams to have made "maybe well over 100 calls" trying to secure photos of young male athletes either in the nude or wearing only underwear.

The 1996 charges stemmed from calls Abrams allegedly made in late December 1995 and early January 1996, just as his career at Stanford was coming to an end. However, campus police confirmed last week they began an internal investigation in the summer of 1995 into accusations that somebody posed as "coach Doug Brown," among other pseudonyms, and requested nude photos of boys who had attended a summer basketball camp on campus.

Capt. Raoul Niemeyer of the Stanford University Police Department said the suspect, whom police believe was Abrams, made calls to high school athletes around the country as well as in the Bay Area.

"You wonder how many people he called who said, "You gotta be kidding me, get outta here,' " Niemeyer said.

Niemeyer said the investigation began after about a dozen complaints from kids or parents of kids who attended the camp. He said things were beginning to heat up when Zaragoza called after receiving a complaint from the parents of a star football player at Wilcox High School in Santa Clara.

Abrams eventually was caught in a police "sting" operation. At the time, his attorney described the acts as

"pranks that were carried too far." But Zaragoza, who has 14 years experience as an investigator, said recently that his investigation and conversations with Abrams led him to believe there could be more to come.

"My perception of Eric ... was that this guy was likely to reoffend, that more than likely he would reoffend sooner than later," said Zaragoza.

Since '96, authorities allege Abrams has represented himself at various times as a coach, a college football recruiter, a doctor, a Nike rep, a Warriors employee, a talent scout, a police officer and a school teacher.

Who is Eric Abrams?

"He was a very bright young man from the start," said Woods, Abrams' high school coach. "A 4.0-plus student in high school as well as in middle school, a very generous kid who did lots of community service work both for the school and some on his own."

Said Zaragoza: "He's a pretty good salesman."

Said Santa Clara deputy district attorney Cameron Bowman, who is trying the case in the South Bay: "He's really kind of a mystery to me."

Abrams was born and raised in University City, a close-knit, middle- to upper-class suburb of San Diego. His mother was an attorney, his father a doctor, and he had one younger brother.

"I remember (Eric) almost like a model son," said Spencer Peller, the Little League teammate who now lives in Denver and hadn't heard from Abrams for 12 years until he got a call a few months ago. "... I always thought his dad was such a nice guy. His dad came to every game, and Eric seemed like he was very well-behaved, he listened to his dad. He wasn't a yapper."

Said Bill Singler, the Stanford special teams coach during Abrams' first three seasons: "Eric was from a real supportive family and a very dedicated family. It was really a family of excellence."

While in middle school, Abrams emerged as a soccer standout and Woods thought that would be his athletic calling.

At La Jolla Country Day, though he was always on the small side (he's now 5-8, 165), Abrams was the middle school Athlete of the Year in eighth grade, playing football, baseball and soccer.

"I told his dad I was looking at him as a player to do more than just kick," Woods said. "But his dad didn't want Eric to get hurt and said he could play if he only kicked."

Woods said he was reticent but eventually acquiesced because Abrams had several friends on the team. Because he was a kicker, Abrams was a prime target for teasing - something he also would endure at Stanford - and he sometimes wanted to take part in the physical drills just to prove his mettle.

Woods described Abrams as a "quiet type, cerebral," sort of a student of the game. But he could play, too. In his senior year, Abrams made 52 of 53 extra points and seven of eight field goals, including a pair of 53-yarders.

That led to Stanford, where Abrams picked up right where he left off in high school. He continued to get razzed by teammates, earning the nickname "Kazoo" for the old-fashioned single-bar face mask he wore, a look that resembled the Martian character on The Flintstones. But Abrams also earned his teammates' respect by making 16 of 20 field-goal attempts and 31 of 32 extra points to account for 79 points - all single-season school records.

At one point in Abrams' freshman season, head coach Bill Walsh referred to him as "adorable," at another point as

"a sweetheart."

But the lovefest would be short-lived. Abrams' sophomore year was a comedown of sorts, with the kicker making just six of 13 field goals from 30 yards and beyond. And his junior year was an all-out crash. He made just nine of 18 field goals, and he missed two very makeable attempts that would have won games in the final seconds.

After one miss, Walsh said, "That kick was so bad, we could've moved the goalposts in front of (Abrams) and he still would have missed."

Singler said the period wasn't easy for Abrams.

"All of it kind of accumulated through the course of the year, Singler said. "Eric took it all real hard, took it all personally, as any kicker would, he put himself on an island out there by himself."

Abrams regrouped his senior season, making the all-conference team and earning an invitation to the NFL draft combine. On Dec. 29, 1995, the day before Stanford was to appear in the Liberty Bowl and as law enforcement officials were beginning to zero in on his activities, Abrams said, "I'd like to think I have a chance to play pro ball. It's been a dream of mine. If I can't, I'll have a Stanford degree to fall back on."

Ultimately, Abrams' leg didn't prove strong enough for him to make it at the next level. He did have a brief stint last year with the San Jose SaberCats of the Arena Football League, but he was cut after the team's first regular-season game, in which he made just one of five field-goals attempts.

While at Stanford and since graduating with a degree in psychology, Abrams held an array of low-level jobs, mostly in the field of sports public relations.

In the summers of 1992, '93 and '94, he worked for the San Diego Chargers as an assistant to Mary Hurney, a salary-cap specialist now with the Carolina Panthers. In the winters of 1994 and 1995, he served as an intern in the 49ers' scouting department. His duties included typing reports, organizing the draft room and collecting college scouting information.

"He was extremely quiet," said 49ers vice president Dwight Clark, who described Abrams as "good" at his job.

"He had a pleasant personality, but he was just a really quiet kid and you barely knew he was even here."

Abrams also had jobs as a media intern for the San Jose Sharks (Sept.-Dec. 1996) and in the sports information office at San Jose State (March-May 1997).

"He was just dying for a job in sports," Peller said, recounting his conversations with Abrams during those three days in Denver. "All he wanted was a break."

Peller, who works in the video department for the Denver Nuggets, said he had been out of the country the past two years and had no idea about any of Abrams' run-ins with the law.

"I would have told him from the start he would never get a job in sports," Peller said. "I work in sports, it's all about reputation."

During Abrams' stay with his boyhood friend, Peller said Abrams told him he had played an entire season with the SaberCats, and he apparently related to some of Peller's colleagues that the two were "best friends."

"I feel like I've been conned," Peller said.

Zaragoza's belief that Abrams might commit more crimes stemmed not just from the numbers of phone calls made but also from the nature of those calls.

"You have to understand the way he talked about the photos," Zaragoza said. "... Although he mentioned wanting pictures that included the arms and the legs and the torso, there was no question he was more interested in the genitalia and the buttocks."

According to Jack Marshall, the deputy D.A. who worked that case, Abrams was given a psychiatric evaluation at the time, but it was concluded he wasn't a "pedophile or a person who would do what he has done since."

Abrams pleaded no contest to all seven charges in '96 and was sentenced to three years probation. He was ordered to pay a $200 fine, work 100 hours of community service and undergo psychiatric counseling.

Pennypacker said Abrams has continued to receive counseling since the first case. But if the new charges are proven true, Zaragoza proved prophetic:

* July 1997: Police say Abrams, posing as a Nike representative, called a 14-year-old boy at a San Jose group home and told the boy he had won a contest. Abrams allegedly picked up the boy and drove him back to his house, where he convinced the boy to undress for the purposes of being measured. When the youth became uncomfortable, Abrams allowed him to leave. Abrams faces one felony charge of false imprisonment and one misdemeanor charge of annoying or molesting a child.

* December 19, 1997: Police say Abrams met a 14-year-old boy on a flight from San Jose to San Diego and passed himself off as a talent scout. He allegedly secured the boy's name and phone number and later called, posing as a Warriors employee, to tell the youth he had won tickets to a Warriors game. A meeting never took place, and Abrams was charged in March with one felony count of attempted false imprisonment.

* April 14, 1998: Police say Abrams drove into the Bayview District, flashed a fake police badge at a 13-year-old boy and ordered the youth into his car. He then said he was looking for drugs and ordered the boy to strip before releasing him shortly thereafter, according to police.

About half an hour later, police say Abrams tried the same ploy on a pair of brothers, one 11 the other 13, but he was foiled when the mother of the two boys pulled up and intervened. Abrams drove off, but the mother chased and caught up to him around 19th and Ocean avenues, where her yelling and banging on his hood apparently drew the attention of police. Eventually, a report was filed at the Taraval Station, but Abrams was released.

Three days later, after San Francisco police say they pieced things together, a warrant was issued for Abrams' arrest. According to the district attorney's office, he stands to face two felony counts of attempted kidnapping, one felony count of kidnapping, two felony counts of impersonating a police officer and one misdemeanor count of annoying with sexual intent.

Although he would not comment on Abrams' case, forensic psychologist Dr. Park Dietz said that generally "sex offenders who use ruses are more cunning and therefore more dangerous than those who use seduction. And the most dangerous ruse of all is posing as a police officer."

Dietz, of Newport Beach, is a recognized national expert on sex offenders. When asked about the notion that an obsessive-compulsive's failure to take his medication could result in the person committing sex crimes, Dietz said, "No. This is becoming a popular excuse, but it doesn't hold any water."

Pennypacker insists his client isn't a threat, as long as Abrams gets the help he needs and takes his antidepressant medicine.

"He is just the most passive, non-violent person you'd ever want to meet," said the attorney. "I've been defending him the last 10 months, and I just think it's unfortunate he got caught in this medical situation that we know we can work with.

"He has tremendous potential for still being a very contributing member of society."

Abrams remains in custody in Santa Clara County Jail, held on $900,000 bail. If convicted on those charges, he could face up to four to five years in prison. If convicted on the San Francisco charges, which are pending while the South Bay case plays itself out, he could face a 10-to-12-year sentence.

At a hearing April 28, Santa Clara County Municipal Court judge Jean High Wetenkamp raised the bail total to $900,000 on all charges.

Said Wetenkamp, "There is clearly a future danger to the community if Mr. Abrams is let out." <