The alleged connection between the mob and two former NBA players—Hall of Famer Chauncey Billups and longtime veteran Damon Jones—began as it often does: through a little-known intermediary. This is one of the ways that organized crime infiltrates athletes' locker rooms and inner circles – gradually, through connections that seem harmless enough.
What begins as a friendly poker party or an invitation from a trusted acquaintance can soon develop into something entirely different – a sticky web of influence and, soon enough, obligation, former prosecutors and those who study the Mafia say.
In that case, prosecutors say the middleman was Robert L. Stroud, a 67-year-old Louisville resident with a criminal history. In 1994, Stroud killed a man during an evening of cards and gambling at a Louisville home, according to local publication WAVE News. The publication also reported that when Stroud was stopped in 2001 for an expired tag, the officer found “sports betting cards, dice, playing cards and what appeared to be gambling records” in the back seat.
According to the indictment and accompanying court documents unsealed last week, Stroud recruited Billups and Jones to participate in rigged poker games run by members of New York's most notorious crime families.
“Stroud recruited former professional athletes, including defendants Billups and Damon Jones, to participate in a conspiracy to lure wealthy victims into gambling,” according to an arrest report filed in the case. “For their role as ‘face cards’ and members of the fraudulent teams, Stroud paid them a share of the proceeds of crime.”
Stroud, Billups and Jones were among 34 people, including Miami Heat guard Terry Rozierarrested last week in connection with two overlapping investigations. One of them focused on an illegal sports betting scheme that was allegedly based on NBA insider information. Another involved high-stakes poker games associated with the Genovese, Gambino, Lucchese and Bonanno crime families. Prosecutors allege Billups and Jones helped defraud members of more than $7 million using X-ray tables, high-tech glasses and other futuristic tools. Billups' lawyer denies wrongdoing by his client.
The allegations have rocked the NBA, whose fabulously paid athletes appear to have every incentive not to engage in activities that could ruin their careers and reputations. It's unclear why Billups and Jones became involved with mob figures, as federal prosecutors allege. During his successful career, Billups earned more than $100 million and nearly $5 million a year as England coach. Portland Trail Blazers. Jones, a former accomplished player and assistant coach, earned more than $22 million during his 11-year playing career.
“It's hard to understand why this is happening,” said Keith Corbett, a lawyer and former head of the federal organized crime unit in Detroit. He said that in past cases, many players fell into the mafia's net because they were addicted to the action.
“There's always a certain temptation when people want to do something a little shady to get money and not report it,” he added. “Or they might owe these guys money for some reason, maybe because they made a bet with them.”
Scott Bernstein, a Mafia expert and founding editor of The Gangster Report, a website that tracks organized crime, says underworld figures often begin building relationships with athletes early on, at youth sporting events and other lightly regulated venues.
“These exhibition events, AAU basketball tournaments or 7-on-7 football tournaments are sometimes organized by criminals or people close to criminals,” Bernstein said. “Then they can leverage those relationships later.”
Often the question does not necessarily affect the outcome of the game. If a player is asked to make less than a certain number of rebounds or play fewer minutes while feigning an injury, it can be easily explained, Bernstein says.
“They can do mental gymnastics to the point where they don’t think they’re affecting the outcome of the game,” he said. “So they are morally pure in their minds.”
In the 1980s, Michael Franzese, then the head of the Colombo crime family, bought a stake in the sports agency World Sports & Entertainment, seeking to develop close relationships with athletes. The agency secretly signed top college players who it believed had the potential to go pro.
“I did it because I wanted to get closer to the athletes,” Franzese said. “We knew if we could get close to these guys they were going to be in trouble. If they take risks, they will come to us.”
Franzese's move was more than just a personal hustle. This was part of a broader pattern spanning several generations. Organized crime has long recognized the vulnerability of athletes – their money, their inexperience, their appetites – and found ways to exploit them.
“What people don’t understand about some athletes,” said Franzese, who has since spent decades talking to sports leagues and the NCAA about the risks of gambling, “is that gambling is an extension of their competitive spirit. They want to raise the stakes. These guys go on plane trips and lose thousands of dollars.”
Mafia figures have attracted prominent athletes for decades. In the 1960s, the collegiate and early professional careers of Hall of Famers Connie Hawkins and Roger Brown were derailed when investigators discovered they had ties to Jack Molinas, a former player turned mob connection. Both players were never arrested or charged.
During the 1978–79 season, a group of Boston College basketball players were recruited to manipulate accounts by Henry Hill and Jimmy “The Gentleman” Burke, associates of the New York Lucchese crime family later immortalized in Goodfellas. Hill's group placed large bets through mob-controlled bookmakers, carefully avoiding definitive results and focusing on the spread to avoid detection.
In the mid-2000s, NBA referee Tim Donaghy admitted to betting on games he officiated and passing inside information to professional players, some of whom had ties to organized crime. Even tennis and boxing, with their individual athletes and opaque refereeing, have periodically attracted the attention of crowds, from fight fixing in Las Vegas to match manipulation on international betting exchanges.
“People who want to fix games would make it their business to develop relationships so that these kids will owe them,” said Edward A. McDonald, who led the prosecution of the Boston College score-shaving case. “They make sure they're friendly with these kids, and the next thing you know, they're in their world.”
While many believe the Mafia is on the decline, people who closely follow its activities say it is only growing. Some say there is less violence and more sophistication. “I don’t believe they are at the pinnacle of power like we are in this day and age,” Franzese said. “But they won't leave.”
But, as always, gambling remains one of the most profitable activities of the mafia. Even with the rise of legalized betting, underground betting still has an unwavering appeal.
Dan E. Moldea, an investigative reporter whose 1989 book Intervention: How Organized Crime Is Impacting Professional Football sparked both outrage and denial within the NFL, predicted in the book that the rise of legal sports betting would in turn fuel the growth of illegal gambling. “You can get a lot of mileage out of Charlie, the friendly local mafia bookie at the corner bar,” Moldea said. “And Charlie will give you credit.”
Although professional athletes can earn huge incomes, their careers are often short and their bankrolls are not infinite. Records show Jones filed for bankruptcy twice in Texas, in 2013 and 2015, although both applications were rejected. In 2015, he claimed his liabilities ranged from $500,000 to $1 million and assets ranged from $100,001 to $500,000. His creditors included the Bellagio casino in Las Vegas, which said Jones owed more than $47,000.
In a September 2023 text message copied into court documents, Jones asked Stroud — the man prosecutors say recruited him and Billups into the poker scheme — for an advance before the game.
“I don’t know how much they will pay for this job tomorrow, but can I get an advance of 10 thousand for it?” Jones asked. “GOD really blessed me that you have something for me because I really need it today.”
