Former NBA star Damon Jones pleads guilty in sprawling gambling scandal

Unwitting poker players lost over $9.5 million through rigged games; sportsbooks defrauded of millions through insider betting schemes.
He helped organized crime use violence to enforce debts and keep the operation running.
Jones's role in rigged poker games extended beyond deception to complicity in a criminal enterprise.

In a Brooklyn federal courtroom, former NBA champion Damon Jones became the first to plead guilty in a sweeping gambling conspiracy that has drawn in organized crime families, fellow athletes, and the shadowy machinery of rigged games. At 49, a man who once earned his living by the precision of a jump shot admitted to trading on the currency of fame and insider knowledge — betraying teammates, deceiving bettors, and enabling the kind of violence that organized crime uses to collect its debts. His story is a familiar one in the longer human narrative: the slow erosion of integrity that begins with small compromises and ends in a federal courtroom, where a single phrase offered to the cameras — 'To God be the glory' — carries the full weight of everything lost.

  • A man who built his identity around athletic excellence admitted in open court that he sold that identity to fraudsters, texting co-conspirators to 'bet enough so Djones can eat' using nonpublic injury information about LeBron James.
  • The conspiracy reaches far beyond one former player — more than thirty arrests have swept in reputed members of the Gambino, Genovese, and Bonanno crime families, who used violence and threats to enforce debts and keep rigged poker operations running.
  • Unwitting poker players at high-stakes games in Miami and the Hamptons lost over $9.5 million to tables equipped with altered shuffling machines, hidden cameras, and X-ray equipment — with Jones serving as the celebrity lure.
  • Jones is the first and so far only defendant to plead guilty, facing 48 to 63 months in prison under sentencing guidelines, while co-defendants including Terry Rozier and Chauncey Billups remain unresolved in the system.
  • The investigation continues to expand, and Jones will spend four months on bail waiting to learn the cost — measured in years — of the compromises he made.

Damon Jones once declared himself the best shooter in the world, and for a decade across ten NBA teams he had the résumé to argue it — including a championship ring earned as an assistant coach with the 2016 Cleveland Cavaliers. On Tuesday, in a Brooklyn federal courtroom, he admitted to trading all of it away.

Jones, now 49, became the first person to plead guilty in a federal gambling conspiracy involving more than thirty arrests, including reputed members of the Gambino, Genovese, and Bonanno crime families. He confessed to two counts of conspiracy to commit wire fraud — one for defrauding major sportsbooks like DraftKings and FanDuel, another for his role in rigged poker games that cost unwitting players more than nine and a half million dollars.

The sports betting scheme relied on Jones's access to the NBA world. In February 2023, he texted a co-conspirator that LeBron James — his former Cleveland teammate — was injured and wouldn't play against Milwaukee, urging a large bet before the information became public. James was ruled out hours later. In another instance, a tip about Anthony Davis's playing time cost bettor Marves Fairley a hundred-thousand-dollar wager when Davis played his usual minutes and the Lakers won.

The poker operation was more elaborate. Jones was paid to serve as a 'face card' — his own term — drawing wealthy players to high-stakes games in Miami and the Hamptons where tables were rigged with hidden cameras, altered shuffling machines, and X-ray equipment. Organized crime figures enforced the scheme through violence and threats.

In court, Jones apologized to his family, peers, and the league, acknowledging he had violated federal law, NBA conduct rules, and the terms of the betting platforms themselves. Leaving the courthouse surrounded by cameras, he offered only: 'To God be the glory.'

He remains free on bail ahead of a January 6 sentencing hearing. Federal guidelines point to 48 to 63 months in prison for the poker conspiracy, reduced from a steeper range in exchange for his early plea. He has agreed to forfeit $73,000 and may face additional restitution. None of his co-defendants — including former players Terry Rozier and Chauncey Billups — have moved toward a plea. The investigation widens, and Jones waits.

Damon Jones once stood at the three-point line and declared himself the best shooter in the world. The former NBA player had the credentials to back it up—a decade-long career spanning ten teams, more than twenty million dollars earned, and a championship ring from 2016 when he helped the Cleveland Cavaliers win it all as an assistant coach. On Tuesday, in a Brooklyn federal courtroom, he admitted to throwing all of that away.

Jones, now 49, became the first person to enter a guilty plea in what federal prosecutors describe as a sprawling gambling conspiracy that has ensnared more than thirty people, including reputed members of the Gambino, Genovese, and Bonanno crime families. He stood before Magistrate Judge Joseph Marutollo and confessed to two counts of conspiracy to commit wire fraud—one for his role in defrauding major sportsbooks like DraftKings and FanDuel, another for his participation in rigged poker games that fleeced unwitting players of more than nine and a half million dollars.

The scheme was simple in its corruption: Jones leveraged his fame and his relationships within professional basketball to sell nonpublic information to bettors. In February 2023, he texted an unnamed co-conspirator that LeBron James, his former teammate in Cleveland, was injured and wouldn't play against Milwaukee. "Get a big bet on Milwaukee tonight before the information is out," Jones wrote, adding "Bet enough so Djones can eat." James wasn't on the injury report at the time, but the NBA's all-time leading scorer was ruled out hours later due to a lower body injury. The Lakers lost 115-106. In another instance, Jones accepted twenty-five hundred dollars from sports bettor Marves Fairley for a tip that Anthony Davis would have limited playing time against Oklahoma City. Fairley placed a hundred-thousand-dollar bet on the Thunder. Davis played his usual minutes, scored twenty-seven points, grabbed fifteen rebounds, and the Lakers won. Fairley demanded his money back.

The poker scheme operated with even more brazen machinery. Jones was paid to serve as a "face card"—his term, read aloud in court—at high-stakes games in Miami and the Hamptons. His job was to use his NBA celebrity to draw wealthy players to tables where the games were rigged with altered shuffling machines, hidden cameras, special sunglasses, and X-ray equipment built into the table itself. At one Hamptons game, prosecutors say, Jones was instructed to cheat by watching the other players and folding when uncertain. He texted back: "Y'all know I know what I'm doing!!" He knew exactly what he was doing. He was helping organized crime figures use violence and threats to enforce debts and keep the operation running.

In his statement to the court, Jones acknowledged that his actions violated not only federal law but also the NBA's code of conduct and the terms of service of the betting websites themselves. He apologized to the court, his family, his peers, and the league. When he left the courthouse, swarmed by reporters and cameras, he offered only a single phrase: "To God be the glory."

Jones remains free on bail. His sentencing is scheduled for January 6 before two separate judges—one for the sports betting case, one for the poker scheme. Federal guidelines call for twenty-one to twenty-seven months in prison for the betting conspiracy. The poker case carries a far steeper price: sixty-three to seventy-eight months, though prosecutors agreed to subtract fifteen months in exchange for his early guilty plea, bringing the potential sentence to forty-eight to sixty-three months if the judges follow the guidelines. He has agreed to forfeit seventy-three thousand dollars and may be ordered to pay additional restitution. None of his co-defendants have shown any willingness to plead guilty. Terry Rozier, the former Miami Heat guard also charged, faces additional charges being sought by prosecutors. Chauncey Billups, the Hall of Famer and Portland Trail Blazers head coach arrested alongside Jones, remains in the system. The investigation continues to widen, and Jones, the first to break, will wait four months to learn how much of his remaining life the courts will take.

I would like to sincerely apologize to the court, my family, my peers and also the National Basketball Association.
— Damon Jones, in court statement
I knew these games were rigged and that players were being cheated.
— Damon Jones, admitting to his role in poker scheme
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Inventor

What made him do it? He had money, he had respect, he had a place in basketball history.

Model

That's the question, isn't it. But I think once you're out of the game—once the roar stops, the paychecks stop, the identity stops—some people feel invisible. He still had access. He still knew things. And there were people willing to pay for what he knew.

Inventor

The LeBron James tip—that's the one that sticks. He texted someone to bet against his former teammate.

Model

Right. And James didn't even know he was injured yet. Jones had information the world didn't have. That's power. That's leverage. For a moment, he mattered again in a way the game no longer made him matter.

Inventor

But the poker games are worse, aren't they? At least the betting is abstract. The poker games—those are people sitting at a table, losing real money they thought they had a fair chance with.

Model

Nine and a half million dollars. More than thirty people. And he knew the games were rigged. He knew it. He sat there with his celebrity, his smile, his NBA pedigree, and he helped take their money. That's not a mistake. That's a choice made over and over.

Inventor

He said "To God be the glory" when he left the courthouse.

Model

I don't know what that means to him. Maybe it's genuine. Maybe it's the only thing left to say when you've used up everything else.

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