Wearing the dark blues of the Crips street gang and a cap loosely tilted up, 31-year-old Leifel Jackson looked matter of factly into the camera

"We got some guys riding through that's from the other side," he said. "They may not be hostile, they may be hostile, so we take cover to get prepared."

This image, captured in Marc Levin's 1994 HBO documentary "Gang War: Bangin' in Little Rock," is typical of the off-hand familiarity with violence demonstrated by the young men and women in the film.

Jackson, known back then as O.G. (for "Original Gangster"), was identified in "Gang War" as one of Little Rock's "oldest surviving gangsters." At the time, he was a drug dealer and leader of the Original Gangster Crips, actively recruiting kids - some not even 10 years old - to join the gang.

Now, 10 years later, he is at the center of "Back in the Hood: Gang War 2," Levin's sequel that explores what happened to the people and the community documented in the first film.

The sequel will have its world premiere at 7 p.m. Friday, Aug. 20, at the Patrick Henry Hays Senior Citizens Center in North Little Rock. Proceeds from the sale of tickets, which are $50, will benefit the Sherman Park Our Club, where Jackson now works as director.

***

"Back in the Hood" follows Jackson, among others, as he adjusts to a life he scarcely could have imagined when he was a charismatic - and fatalistic - gang leader.

After shooting for the first film ended, Jackson was arrested for drug trafficking. He served eight years in federal prison and returned to society determined to make an impact on children in danger of following the same path he had taken. His chance came when, shortly after his release more than two years ago, he was offered the job as director of Sherman Park Our Club, an after-school and summer program for at-risk children located in the eastern part of North Little Rock.

Jackson knew he had found the right place when, on his first visit to the club, he met a child who was struggling with school work and behavior problems, a child he felt he could reach even though others had failed to do so.

"These are the kids I want to work with because these are the kids no one else wants to work with," he said.

And, he added, he draw on his own experiences on the streets to affect change in the Our Club children's lives.

"All youth want is structure," he said. "On the streets, I was providing structure in a negative way. Now I'm doing it in a positive way."

Jackson admits that keeping his own life on a positive track is a challenge.

Making ends meet is a struggle, he said, and no matter what he does in life, many people will always dismiss him as a drug dealer and gangster.

"It's discouraging," Jackson said. "I never look down on those that get back in [to drugs or gangs]. It's very hard. It's easier in jail, where at least you know you have a place to sleep and you know where your next meal is coming from."

Still, Jackson said he draws strength from knowing he is having a positive influence on the children who have made Our Club a home away from home.

"At the end of the day after working hard," he said, "I can rest confidently, and I can smile and feel good. I know I'm having an impact."

And that impact is vital to the program, said Vince Insalaco, organizer of the film premiere and vice-chairman of Butterfly Community Ministries, a North Little Rock faith-based not-for-profit that, along with the city and county, provides funding for the Sherman Park Our Club.

"The kids listen to him," he said. "Because he's been there, he's respected.

"No one wakes up when they're 30 and becomes a gangster," he added. "It starts when you're 6 … If it wasn't for this program, they'd be on the street."

And Jackson isn't shy about using his own experience as a gang member and drug pusher to show children at Our Club the pitfalls of choosing that direction. He even brings current gang members in to talk to the kids.

"Then, when a kid has to make a choice, 'do I or don't I?' They have something to go back to. They can say, 'I don't want to end up like that.'"

***

Levin's interest in Little Rock's gang culture began in spring 1993, after The New York Times published an article stating that Little Rock had the highest per capita murder rate in the country.

The filmmaker first contacted Steve Nawojczyk, the Pulaski County Coroner who had begun canvassing the streets, showing young people photographs of gang violence victims in an effort to dissuade them from becoming involved in gangs and to dissuade gang members from using guns to solve their problems.

And, Levin said in a telephone interview this week, Nawojczyk wasted no time introducing him to the city.

"He picked me up and, right off the plane, took me straight into the 'hood," Levin said.

Though some gang members initially feared he was an FBI or DEA agent, he was able to gain their trust, by "putting in the time to get to know people and earning their respect."

For Jackson, the film was an opportunity to refute the notion that gang violence was not a serious problem in Little Rock.

"The killing was at its highest stage," Jackson said. "Some people were saying that there was no problem. I wanted to voice my opinion that there was a problem."

But opposition came from the city officials and power brokers, who felt that the film sensationalized the violence and would negatively affect tourism and the city's reputation.

Little Rock Mayor Jim Dailey was one of those who objected, and he still questions the integrity of the film.

"There were questions about whether it was factual," he said in a telephone interview this week. "And it was so hyped up in terms of the fear factor. It had a terribly negative impact on the Little Rock community. People were questioning whether they should come here to visit relatives or whether to have conventions here.

"It was one of the most sinister marketing efforts to dramatize or almost glamorize something that was extremely damaging," he said.

Jackson believes just the opposite, arguing that "Gang War" played a vital role in forcing folks to address the violence in the community.

"Nobody would listen to us," he said. "With the movie, they had to listen. In the end, it brought more attention to gangs and drugs. It made people want to be more active."

***

"Back in the Hood," by contrast, has rallied support from a number of city, state and county officials, some of whom will attend the premiere.

A lot of that support, said Insalaco, stems from the fact that the sequel centers on Jackson's effort to forge a new life.

"It's a story of a redemption," he said.

North Little Rock Mayor Pat Hays concurred.

"It's being told in a way that has a positive slant," he said, noting that the story is one of "what can be done and should be done and is being done."

Levin said he shot footage of everyone featured in the first film, but it was Jackson's story that emerged as the most compelling.

"It is simply the struggle of one man to see if he can turn his life around and the community around," he said.

For his part, Daily said he is "much more comfortable" with Levin's new film.

"It showed the risk of going down this glamorous route, where you might have a lot of cash in your pocket, but you might end up in a coroner's office," he said.

Indeed, one of the film's most harrowing images is a meeting between Jackson and Derrick "Blue" Williams, a gangster from the first film who was paralyzed by a gunshot wound. During the meeting, Williams expresses quiet, devastated regret.

"He called me," Jackson said of the meeting "[He] said, 'O.G., I need to talk to you. I got something I want to tell all these kids in gangs. This is the outcome: look at me.'"

Williams died two weeks after that meeting.

Jackson said he firmly believes that fewer kids are making the kinds of choices he and Williams did, partly because of programs like Our Club.

"Things have dramatically changed," Jackson said. "It's a lot better."

It's better for Jackson, too.

About three months before his indictment in 1994, someone asked Jackson where he saw himself in a year.

"Dead or in prison for the rest of my life," was his answer.

He could never imagine that he would instead emerge as a community leader.

"The Leifel Jackson of then," he said, "would be smiling at the Leifel Jackson of today."

Tickets to the premiere, the cost of which are tax deductible, may be purchased by calling 834-0034.