Former sheriff's lieutenant and fireworks CEO face murder charges after deadly Yolo County explosion

By Marissa George
updated on April 12, 2026

A former Yolo County sheriff's lieutenant and the founder of a fireworks company were arrested on murder charges this week, the lieutenant at his home, the CEO while vacationing with his family at Disney World, after a grand jury indicted eight people in connection with last July's explosion at an illegal fireworks factory near Esparto, California, that killed seven people.

The arrests, which took place Thursday at locations around the country, capped a year-long investigation into what prosecutors describe as a decade-long criminal conspiracy that turned a law enforcement officer's rural property into Northern California's hub for importing and selling illegal explosives on the black market.

Yolo County District Attorney Jeff Reisig announced the indictments at a press conference, as the New York Post reported. Five of the eight people indicted on April 3 were charged with second-degree murder. Among them: Sam Machado, the former sheriff's lieutenant, and Kenneth Chee, the Bay Area-based founder and CEO of Devastating Pyrotechnics. Each faces seven murder counts, one for every victim killed in the blast.

A million pounds of explosives on one property

The Yolo County District Attorney's office said approximately one million pounds of fireworks were stored at the factory when it detonated last July. The blast leveled the building and forced evacuations in the surrounding area of rural Esparto.

But prosecutors say the scale of the operation went far beyond what was on site that day. Over the course of the alleged conspiracy, the group imported more than eleven million pounds of explosives, the DA's office stated.

Deputy District Attorney Clara Nabity made clear that prosecutors do not view this as a case about consumer fireworks gone wrong. She told reporters the grand jury alleged "a decade-long conspiracy which turned the property of a former sheriff's Lt. (Machado) into the Northern California hub for an illegal enterprise that imports and sells illegal explosives on the black market."

Nabity drove the point further:

"This is not a case just about fireworks. They are devices that have so much more explosive fireworks than the law allows that they can't be considered fireworks. They are explosives, but they were designed and packaged for consumer sales under private levels."

The phrasing "under private levels" appeared in the prosecutor's remarks as quoted. Whatever the precise regulatory term, the thrust was plain: these were not sparklers and bottle rockets. They were commercial-grade explosives funneled to consumers through an illegal pipeline, and seven people paid for it with their lives.

A sheriff's lieutenant allegedly used his badge as a shield

The most damning allegation in the indictment may be the role prosecutors say Machado played. He was not just a participant, Nabity said. He allegedly leveraged "his role as a trusted lieutenant to help shield the conspiracy as it expanded."

Think about what that means. A sworn officer of the Yolo County Sheriff's Department, someone entrusted with public safety, allegedly used his position to protect a black-market explosives ring operating on his own property. For years.

Machado resigned from the sheriff's department last month, well before the indictments were unsealed. As of Friday, he remained in custody. His wife, Tammy Machado, was also among those arrested.

It is a grim reminder that corruption inside law enforcement does not require a sprawling federal agency or a big-city police force. Sometimes it festers in a rural county, behind a badge that neighbors trusted, on a piece of land that hid a million pounds of explosives in plain sight. California has seen no shortage of large-scale criminal enterprises unravel in recent months, but this one carries a body count that makes it hard to look away.

The CEO's Disney World arrest

Kenneth Chee, the founder and CEO of Devastating Pyrotechnics, was arrested in Florida while at Disney World with his family. The Sacramento Bee reported the detail of his arrest location, and it has become the most vivid image of the case: a fireworks mogul hauled away at the self-proclaimed happiest place on earth, facing seven counts of murder for an explosion fueled by his company's product.

Chee's company name, Devastating Pyrotechnics, now reads less like branding and more like a warning label. Jack Lee, the company's operations manager, was also arrested in connection with the blast.

Disney parks have become an oddly recurring backdrop for headline-grabbing arrests. A California man was recently charged with threatening Vice President JD Vance at Disneyland, and the Florida parks have drawn their own share of disturbing incidents.

Five defendants had already been booked into the Yolo County Jail by Friday. Arraignments are scheduled for Monday.

Eleven million pounds and a decade of silence

The numbers in this case are staggering on their own terms. Eleven million pounds of illegal explosives imported over a decade. A million pounds on site the day the factory blew. Seven dead. Eight indicted. A year-long investigation to get here.

And the investigation is not over. Reisig said more individuals are being investigated. How many people knew about, or profited from, this operation remains an open question.

What is not an open question is the cost. Seven people are dead because illegal explosives were stored, sold, and shielded from scrutiny for years. Ordinary people bear the consequences when lawlessness operates in the open, and the families of the seven victims in Esparto know that better than anyone.

Reisig addressed those families directly at the press conference:

"Our heart is with them... we are committed to pursuing this to the very end."

The questions that remain

The indictment names eight people, but only a handful have been publicly identified so far. The names of the three other defendants facing murder charges alongside Machado and Chee have not been disclosed in available reporting. Nor have the names of the seven victims been widely released in this context.

There are harder questions, too. How did a million pounds of explosives sit on a property in Yolo County without detection? Did Machado's position in the sheriff's department actively obstruct inspections or investigations? Prosecutors allege he used his badge to "shield" the conspiracy, but what does that mean in operational terms? Did he redirect complaints? Suppress tips? When public officials entrusted with oversight look the other way, the damage compounds.

And what about the regulatory apparatus that is supposed to prevent exactly this kind of catastrophe? Eleven million pounds of illegal explosives moved through Northern California over ten years. That is not a one-time lapse. That is a systemic failure, one that ended in an explosion that leveled a building and forced evacuations in a rural community that had no reason to expect it was living next to a bomb.

Accountability, finally

The murder charges are the right call. When people die because others knowingly operated an illegal explosives enterprise, and when a law enforcement officer allegedly used his authority to keep it running, second-degree murder is not an overreach. It is a recognition that reckless, sustained lawbreaking that kills people is not an accident. It is a choice, made over and over again, for a decade.

California's criminal justice system has not always inspired confidence in recent years when it comes to holding people accountable. Prosecutors in this case appear to be taking the opposite approach. When the system works the way it should, victims and their families get something closer to justice, even if nothing can undo the loss.

Seven people went to work or lived near a property in rural Esparto and never came home. The people who allegedly made that possible are now in custody, facing the most serious charges the state can bring. That is where accountability starts. Whether it finishes there depends on whether the investigation lives up to the DA's promise to pursue it "to the very end."

When a badge becomes a shield for a criminal enterprise instead of the public, the betrayal runs deeper than any single explosion. The people of Yolo County, and the families of seven dead, deserve to see every layer of it exposed.

About Marissa George

Marissa is a staff writer for Real Talk Digest. She is en expert in breaking down the political boondoggle into the real facts for real people.

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