“Mighty” Gets 25; Dad Torn

Eddie Jackson trudged to federal court Tuesday torn between two feelings: As a homeowner, he applauded police for sweeping ​“drug lords” off the streets. As a father, he cried to see his son, an alleged ​“kingpin” of Newhallville’s notorious R2 gang, locked up for 25 years.

Jackson (pictured) was one of six family members who showed up to Tuesday morning to support Joseph ​“Mighty” Jackson at his sentencing in New Haven’s U.S. District Court. Judge Ellen Bree Burns sentenced Jackson to 25 years in prison for his role as the alleged ​“kingpin” of a crack-cocaine ring in Newhallville.

Jackson got locked up in October 2010 as part of a joint New Haven-Hamden-DEA-FBI sweep targeting alleged members of the R2 gang, which cops identified as one of the most violent gangs in town. Police linked the gang to at least two homicides, three attempted armed assaults on cops, 19 aggravated assaults, 78 firearms discharges, and 15 street robberies. Jackson was one of 47 people arrested in the sweep; he pleaded guilty in February to one count of conspiracy to possess with intent to distribute 280 grams or more of crack. As part of the plea deal, the defense and prosecution agreed to a sentence of 25 years in prison; Judge Burns, who makes the final call, honored that agreement in her sentencing Tuesday.

The day brought raw emotions to Burns’ gilded second-story courtroom.

Eddie Jackson shed tears for his son before the judge.

“I just want you to know, I tried to raise him right and do the right thing,” he said. ​“He’s a good kid. He just got caught up.”

At the same time, he said he agreed with some arguments made in court about the purpose of locking up 47 Newhallville men.

The morning’s proceedings brought up some difficult questions: Is Newhallville safer with 47 men behind bars? What effect will incarceration have?

The discussion began shortly after 9 a.m. Joseph Jackson walked into the court wearing a white T‑shirt, khaki pants, and black Nike sneakers. Court officials unlocked his handcuffs and let him sit, unshackled, next to his court-appointed defense attorney, Frank Riccio III.

A court official directed Jackson’s family to move back a row so they wouldn’t be too close to him. Then Jackson turned around to his family and gestured to his head. He had cut off all of his long dreadlocks.

“You like it?” he asked.

His cousin gestured back to his own head: They now had the same haircut.

As he waited for the judge, Jackson looked around at the red-carpeted courtroom, which is decked out with three gold-colored balconies, three large sets of double-doors and many scales of justice. Riccio pointed out a portrait of Judge Burns in the back of the room. Burns is the judge who OK’d the wiretaps that brought down Mighty and his crew. She has been intimately involved in the R2 case; all of the 47 arrestees have either been sentenced or are awaiting sentencing.

Jackson, who’s 37, rose to his feet at 9:16 a.m. when Burns, who’s 89, walked into the courtroom using a four-pronged cane.

In remarks before the judge, Riccio conceded that Jackson’s criminal conduct ​“was very serious.”

The government describes Jackson in court documents as a ​“career drug dealer” who orchestrated a crack-cocaine ring. Prior to his arrest in 2010, he had seven drug-selling convictions in state court. Riccio acknowledged that in the federal sweep, a lot of people went to prison because they were working for Jackson.

However, he said, his client has since shown remorse. When Jackson cut his long dreadlocks, Riccio argued, it was ​“a sign that he’s moving on” from his past. Riccio said Jackson maintains a relationship with his three children, even from behind bars.

His girlfriend wept in the courtroom as she listened.

Jackson’s cousin, Ameer Williams, stood up to defend Jackson’s character. ​“Despite the picture that is painted of him, he’s a very compassionate person,” said Williams, who is godfather to Jackson’s two sons. ​“At least to me, he’s not that bad of a guy.” He asked he judge for ​“leniency” and to keep his cousin close to Connecticut so he could see his family.

Being locked up far from Connecticut would only hurt Jackson’s relationships with his kids and mother, Williams argued. (The judge later agreed, but said she has no say over where the Bureau of Prisons incarcerates prisoners.)

Riccio described his client as ​“a respectful gentleman who’s never been anything but polite to me.” His character ​“should be layered with what the streets of New Haven did to him,” he said.

U.S. Attorney Christopher Mattei painted a graver portrait of the man and his actions. Jackson ​“sat at the very top” of the drug-dealing ring and ​“directed the activities of multiple people,” including several minors, Mattei said. Jackson hired his own nephew to work for him at age 17, and equipped him with guns for the job, Mattei said. Jackson would routinely buy a kilo of cocaine for $30,000, then distribute it as crack in Newhallville, Mattei said. Jackson paid those who worked for him little, but stashed tens of thousands of dollars in several locations for himself, according to the government’s presentencing report.

“There are many victims here,” Mattei argued. Hundreds of people fed their addictions using Jackson’s crack, he said. And many people in Newhallville saw their property values plummet because of the crime in the neighborhood.

Mattei refuted Jackson’s dad’s assertion that his son just got ​“caught up” in drug-dealing.

Jackson has seven prior convictions for selling drugs, Mattei said. ​“This isn’t something he got caught up in. This is something he chose.”

The prosecution argued that locking up Jackson for 25 years serves many purposes. It ​“aims to remove him from society” during a period in his adult life when he would be most likely to return to drug dealing,” the presentencing report reads. Jackson’s sentence will be retroactive to October 2010; he will be 59 when he gets out.

Mattei said he hopes that when Jackson gets out of prison, ​“he decides he will not be a plague on the neighborhood in which he lives,” but a productive member, as his family wants him to be.

Mattei said the sentence would also serve as a general deterrent to others, proving that drug-dealing may make you rich in the short-term, but has long-term costs. Finally, he argued, the sentence aims to send a message to Newhallville that ​‘there are legal authorities who are trying to make that neighborhood better.”

Burns echoed the prosecution’s line of reasoning. She highlighted the young people whom Jackson roped into drug-dealing. ​“This is a terrible waste of young lives,” she said.

“Newhallville is a sad place partly as a result of your activities,” Burns told Jackson.

In issuing the sentence, Burns also ordered the forfeiture of a .40 caliber Taurus firearm found in Jackson’s home, some cash found in his girlfriend’s home, and four vehicles: A 2005 Honda CRV, a 2003 Acura, a 2007 Suzuki and a 2003 Yamaha.

Jackson declined an opportunity to speak before the judge.

Outside in the hallway, Ameer Williams took issue with the government’s characterization of his cousin as a drug ​“kingpin.”

“He was involved, but he didn’t orchestrate anything,” Williams said. ​“They made him out to be a big, bad guy.”

Jackson’s dad, Eddie, took a more nuanced stance. On one hand, he grieved the loss of his son, whom he ​“hasn’t touched in three years.” He said it pains him too much to go to jail and see his son. ​“I’m a crybaby,” he confessed.

Eddie Jackson said he didn’t want to go to court Tuesday, but he decided to go to show support.

“I’m very emotional,” he said as he left court. ​“I can’t even think.”

Jackson said he tried to set a good example for his son: ​“I’ve lived [near] drug lords all my life,” he said, ​“but I’ve never broken the law.”

He tried to intervene in his son’s life.

“I tried to tell him” to stop dealing drugs, he said. ​“When the Man gets you, man, you’re going to have to do the time,” he recalled telling his son.

His son brushed off the advice: ​“I got it,” he told his dad, Jackson recalled.

He said he believes his son is ​“a good kid” and not a kingpin. ​“That’s my son and I love him,” he said.

On the other hand, he said, he believes the R2 sweep made Newhallville ​“somewhat” safer.

“It was really getting bad in that neighborhood,” said Jackson, who raised his kids on Winchester Avenue.

“I appreciate they’re doing what they’re doing,” he said of law enforcement. ​“It’s terrible out there.”

“They’re doing a good job in taking drug lords off the street,” he said.

He said he hopes for a better life for his grandkids, though he’s not optimistic.

“I don’t think it’ll ever be safe again,” he said. ​“Everybody’s out there” in the streets. ​“The young people, they just wild.”