The two men met decades ago in China’s far northwestern Xinjiang region.
In Southern California, Shukur Aikebaer and Zhengfeng Bo built quiet suburban lives. Aikebaer raised his three daughters in Chino Hills. Bo settled in Irvine.
Bo, 67, who had amassed a fortune doing public construction projects in China, hired Aikebaer as an assistant, and Aikebaer came up with investment opportunities for Bo, said Tony Lu, Bo’s neighbor and friend.
But one of the deals in which Aikebaer, 60, acted as middleman — a plan to build a luxury apartment building in Pasadena — went south, according to Bo’s civil attorney, Michael Chen. The building didn’t turn a profit, and Bo became suspicious he had been cheated.
Still, those close to Bo said they saw no warning for what occurred the night of July 29, when authorities say he and his brother lured Aikebaer out of his Chino Hills home, shot him and stuffed him in the trunk of a car.
After leading San Bernardino County sheriff’s deputies on a miles-long chase, Bo pulled over. He unhurriedly walked to the back of the car, opened the trunk and fired a final, fatal bullet into his friend before the deputies killed him. His brother, Jianquan Bo, is now jailed on murder and kidnapping charges and has pleaded not guilty.
The last time Lu saw Zhengfeng Bo, the two brothers were working in their yard in Irvine. Bo didn’t seem angry or stressed, Lu said.
Now, like everyone else, Lu is looking back for clues to some inner darkness in Bo.
In 2022, Bo hosted a small gathering at a ranch he owned in northern San Diego County. Aikebaer grilled skewered hunks of lamb over charcoal — a Xinjiang specialty. The mood, Lu said in an interview, was joyous.
“There were no controversies,” he said. “No disputes.”
The property in Bonsall was filled with plants that Bo and his brother raised — fruits and vegetables, grapevines and trees, “whatever you can imagine,” Lu said. Bo had spotted coyotes loping around, and he told Lu he had bought a handgun and a shotgun to kill them.
At the time, Bo was developing the three-story, 35-unit apartment building in Pasadena, according to a contract filed in court. Either Aikebaer or a real estate agent he recommended had presented Bo with the investment opportunity, Lu said. To Lu’s knowledge, Aikebaer did not have a stake in the project, although he is listed in business records as secretary of a company, Panshi Inc., that was majority owner. Bo was Panshi’s chief executive.
“He built that project from dirt,” Lu said of Bo.
A native of northeastern China’s Heilongjiang province, known for its annual ice sculpture festival, Bo had owned a company that built roads and bridges across China, according to Lu and a court document that summarized Bo’s testimony at a trial this year in Virginia.
Bo was overseeing a public works project in Xinjiang when he met Aikebaer, then a local bureaucrat, Lu said. Xinjiang is home to many Uyghurs, a Muslim minority that the Chinese government has subjected to surveillance, forced labor and detainment in concentration camps. Aikebaer was Uyghur, while Bo was Han, China’s majority ethnic group.
Bo’s nephew, who declined to give his name, said Bo had known Aikebaer for 20 years and referred to him as a “brother.” Lu said that the two men’s families were close and that Aikebaer often helped Bo with yard work.
It’s unclear when Aikebaer immigrated to the United States; his relatives declined to speak with a Times reporter. Bo came in 2019 so his children could attend American schools, Lu said.
In 2025, Bo sued in Virginia to intervene in the bankruptcy of a former associate whom he accused of theft. According to immigration records filed in that case, Bo obtained citizenship in the Caribbean island nation of Grenada, which allowed him to get an E-2 visa, granted to citizens of some countries who invest a substantial amount of capital in a U.S. business.
During the trial in January, Bo testified that he controlled companies that handled investments in real estate and cryptocurrency and that he also operated a restaurant. At the trial, Bo’s former associate said he helped Bo transfer millions of dollars out of China, which has strict capital controls, by purchasing cryptocurrency.
Bo once told Lu that his assets totaled $20 million. But Bo didn’t wear expensive clothes, drive flashy cars or take vacations, Lu said. He seemed to have only two interests: gardening and investing. Once, Bo showed Lu a Google Earth map dotted with dozens of pins representing properties he wanted to buy.
“I told him, ‘You’ve gained enough wealth. You have a good family, a good house. Why don’t you retire?’” Lu recalled. Bo said he couldn’t imagine staying home all day with nothing to do.
The Pasadena project broke ground just before the COVID-19 pandemic. Bo didn’t speak English and wasn’t familiar with building procedures in the U.S., so he turned to a project manager, Lu said. Bo granted a 30% stake to the manager, Jason Chiyuan Wang, as compensation, according to a contract made public in a lawsuit that Bo filed days before his death.
Chen, Bo’s lawyer, said in the lawsuit that Bo financed the project with $7.5 million in cash. He also took out an initial $12-million construction loan, Lu said.
The development was beset with delays, cost overruns and financing issues, according to Lu and financial documents filed in Bo’s lawsuit, causing Bo to take on more debt.
When the 41,585-square-foot building, called Madison Courtyard, was finally finished in late 2023, it featured a fire pit, a small dog park and burbling fountains. Bo had hoped to collect rental income for a few years, sell the property and develop another, Lu said.
Instead, Bo learned that the rent didn’t cover the interest he owed — “not even close,” Lu said.
Lu said he was privy to the project’s finances because Bo asked him to prepare a prospectus for investors who might help refinance his debt. In 2024, when 90% of the 35 units were occupied, the building generated an income of $1.05 million. That year, Bo owed $1.3 million in interest, Lu said. The next year, when all the units were rented out, the rental income nearly covered the interest, Lu said.
The project didn’t bankrupt Bo, but it proved a bitter disappointment, Lu said.
According to Lu, Bo became increasingly suspicious that Wang, the project manager, had stolen from him by inflating construction costs. He asked Lu to find an accountant who could audit the project. During a Zoom meeting in March, an accountant gave Bo a list of documents he needed, Lu said. Bo later said Wang, who was in Hong Kong, refused to turn over records.
Wang did not respond to email and phone messages. His father answered the door at an Arcadia home that Wang listed as his residence. He said Wang has lived in Shanghai for the last 10 years.
Bo told Lu that if the audit produced evidence that he had been cheated, Wang should go to prison. But Bo did not voice plans to hurt Wang or anyone else, Lu said.
At another Zoom meeting, Bo used his 70% voting interest to remove Wang as manager of the Pasadena building, according to minutes filed in court. Wang did not attend.
In an email to Bo in March, Wang said he was considering selling the property.
“The broker agreement has been sent to you for review,” he wrote. “We need to make a decision to sell or not. I would attend the meeting if it’s necessary and productive, otherwise let’s not waste time.”
Two days before his death, Bo filed the lawsuit against Wang. Across 127 pages of legal pleadings, contracts, loan agreements and emails that document the Pasadena project, one name is conspicuously absent: Aikebaer.
Lu said Bo had not blamed his old friend for the problems in Pasadena. But he wonders whether something came to light in those last few days.
Bo possessed a single-mindedness that Lu now wonders might have led to murder.
Lu paused to come up with words before switching to Mandarin to describe Bo’s character: “He moved like lightning, striking almost as soon as the thought occurred to him.”
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