Jackson always viewed the eye ties as bat shit crazy and couldn't stomach the tradition they added to dirty work as if it shielded them. But then again, Jackson never thought fleeing from his home, his country would lead him straight to a place where crime was practically owned by the Italians. When his father gave him the address of an old friend by the name of Thomas O'Connell, a limerick lad, Jackson saw a new beginning in the crime 'trade' in a new country. He was tired of the small time stick ups and muggings Dublin had to offer. 

Brooklyn wasn't at all what he expected. The Irish quarter was practically little Dublin. Men that were considered Irish kingpins lived like the rest and conducted themselves like common thugs. Everything Jackson had skipped the pond to escape. Here it was the Italians who made a name for themselves, who ruled with an Iron fist. Even Thomas O'Connell himself kicked up to lower tier goons of the mob, something that would cause riots back home if word got out. Jackson knew he had to change his taste and Spaghetti & Meatballs seemed tastiest. 

Las Vegas, a hookers haven and a wealthy mans paradise. Jackson's only problem was he was neither wealthy nor a hooker, he was just plain old Irish. Well, plain in their eyes. It was time to throw someone different into Vegas and spice things up. 

When Vinnycook approached Jackson on his third week of living rough in the outskirts of Vegas the offer of a bed, some new clothes and the chance to earn big time was hastley accepted. A few broken knee caps later and Jackson finally felt like something. Whether he was or not didn't mean shit, that comes with time. Oh and his favorite meal? Spaghetti.