Nearly 14 months later, a lab in the suburb of South El Monte went up in flames, killing another worker. Prosecutors say both facilities were part of the same sprawling, illicit cannabis extraction enterprise—one that kept operating even after bodies began piling up.
Now six people face felony charges in the wake of “Operation Sugar Diamond,” a multiagency probe that uncovered more than $100 million in illegal cannabis products. At the center of the alleged crime, according to the Los Angeles County District Attorney’s Office, are two men: 53-year-old Temple City resident Ted Chien, accused of running the operation, and his partner, 55-year-old Rosemead resident Han Quan Jiao. Between them, they face multiple murder, arson and drug manufacturing charges that could send them to prison for life—or in Chien’s case, to California’s death row.
If the deaths rattled the owners, prosecutors say it didn’t show.
Cannabis extraction—known in the trade as “honey oil” production—uses highly flammable solvents, often butane, to strip THC from marijuana plants, creating a potent concentrate. The process is simple enough to do in a kitchen, but in commercial-scale illegal labs, the dangers multiply exponentially. Leaking vapors can turn a room into an explosive chamber. Makeshift wiring and jerry-rigged ventilation create fire hazards. And unlike licensed operations, which are subject to safety inspections, black-market labs operate in secrecy, cutting corners to maximize profit. The result is an industry that can burn through neighborhoods as easily as it burns through workers.
“This case shows the deadly and disastrous results when illegal cannabis operations recklessly put greed over the safety of their employees and neighbors,” Los Angeles County District Attorney Nathan Hochman said. “Cannabis may be legal in California, but this kind of high-risk, illegal activity is not.”
The Irwindale explosion killed Yi Luo, 47, of Baldwin Park; Xin Chen, 59, of Rosemead; Guangqi Fu, 35, of Chino; and Quizhuo Liang, 35, of Monterey Park. Prosecutors say the warehouse was being used for honey oil extraction under Chien and Jiao’s direction. The second fatal incident, in November 2024, took place at a South El Monte facility also tied to the defendants, claiming the life of 57-year-old Bordin “Tony” Sikarin of Buena Park.
If the deaths rattled the owners, prosecutors say it didn’t show. Chien and Jiao allegedly kept the operation running until law enforcement raided nine Los Angeles County sites in late July, including a large-scale lab in La Verne. More than 150 agents from the DA’s Bureau of Investigation, the federal Drug Enforcement Agency, the Los Angeles Interagency Metropolitan Police Apprehension Crime Task Force (LA IMPACT), the US Postal Service and other agencies participated.
Four other defendants—Xiaolong Deng, 36; Chengyan Xu, 61; Christopher Reyes, 30; and Frank Herrera, 35—are accused of conspiracy to manufacture a controlled substance. Xu faces additional manufacturing counts and the stiffest potential sentence among them: up to eight years and eight months in prison. The others face a maximum of seven years if convicted.
The mechanics of the honey oil criminal economy mirrors tactics used by illegal cannabis producers worldwide. In Britain, police have uncovered hundreds of clandestine cannabis farms hidden in suburban homes, operated by organized gangs that rent properties—often at inflated prices—to keep owners at arm’s length. The hazards of grow houses, like honey oil labs, lie in their design—or lack of it: Bypassed electrical meters, flammable chemicals and unsafe wiring turn them into potential bombs.
The deaths in Irwindale and South El Monte also underscore the thin, tragic line between “legal” cannabis and its dangerous shadow economy.
Gangs, whether in Manchester or Los Angeles County, prize anonymity and profit over safety. In the UK, low-level “gardeners” take the fall if caught, shielding higher-ups from prosecution. In California, prosecutors say Chien and Jiao relied on employees to produce, transport and store their product, exposing them to mortal risk without the safeguards of licensed industry practices.
The financial incentives are enormous. Honey oil can fetch significantly more per gram than dried cannabis, and the concentrate can be used in vape cartridges, edibles or dabs—products with high street demand. In the black market, the absence of regulatory costs makes margins even fatter. But those savings often come directly at the expense of human life and public safety.
The Irwindale case isn’t the first time butane extraction has ended in tragedy. Across the US, similar blasts have leveled buildings, injured bystanders and sent operators to prison. Licensed facilities aren’t immune to those dangers, even though they are required to use closed-loop systems designed to minimize vapor leaks, along with explosion-proof rooms and industrial ventilation. Illegal labs, by contrast, are typically cobbled together in whatever space is cheap and available—whether a suburban home, a backroom warehouse or an industrial park unit tucked behind an auto body shop.
What makes the Chien-Jiao case stand out is not just the scale of the operation—$100 million in seized product—but the alleged decision to keep going after five workers had already died.
The deaths in Irwindale and South El Monte also underscore the thin, tragic line between “legal” cannabis and its dangerous shadow economy. California’s legalization in 2016 aimed to curtail black-market risks by channeling production into licensed, regulated facilities. But high taxes, regulatory costs and limited retail outlets have kept illicit operations thriving, especially in areas where enforcement is spotty.
When tragedies occur, they can also ripple beyond the immediate victims. In distant Britain, a seven-year-old boy was killed in a cannabis farm explosion that originated in a neighbor’s home. In California, large-scale blasts can damage adjacent businesses and strain emergency services.
As of now, the six defendants in Operation Sugar Diamond await trial. Chien and Jiao will be arraigned on September 11, and prosecutors will ultimately decide whether to pursue the death penalty against Chien. Three of the others will be back in court later next month.
In the meantime, broader questions remain: How many other unlicensed labs are operating quietly in Los Angeles County? How many workers are one spark away from disaster? And how many neighborhoods are unknowingly sharing walls—or power lines—with the next honey oil time bomb?
What began with a fireball over Irwindale has become a grim case study in how a lucrative, underground industry can turn deadly. The price of honey oil, it turns out, is sometimes paid in human lives. The only question is how many more will be lost before the fuse is cut.
