Jeff tells the story differently: "Matthew was my godson. Don't Shoot: George Bumb Sr., the publicity-shy patriarch of the Bumb family and creator of the Flea Market, in a rare photo which appeared in California Today magazine in 1980. He was also the kind of guy, police records reveal, who told his mother about the incidents "because he felt guilty." OK--we didn't get out--OK? But Jeff says the loan dispute screwed up their moving plans. "I'm a big boy." It pitted Bumb against Bumb. (That thing that involved Jeff when Bay 101 was scheduled to open but didn't.)" But Jeff says that privately he and his brothers had an oral agreement--which Tim Bumb now corroborates--that would one day let him repurchase his shares and become a partner in Bay 101 again. "Hell, no," George Bumb replied. "We made it very clear to Jeff and everybody else concerned," Tim says, "that I'm not going to stick my neck on the line here. "Could he [Jeff] do any other work on his own behalf?" For all his quirks and controlling behavior, the old man is regarded as a benefactor by most family members and some Flea Market employees who know their boss to be capable of great generosity. Deputy chief Tom Wheatley says that police wondered if Venzon, or someone, destroyed the barrel to prevent a ballistics test from tracing a fired bullet to the gun. And for nearly a month, they did. Tim now runs Bay 101, which he says is no easy task. At the time, Jeff was in the midst of negotiating an arrangement to be bought out of the family businesses. He was also the kind of guy, police records reveal, who told his mother about the incidents "because he felt guilty." Meanwhile, Jeff and his lawyers spent 15 months trying get his father to appear at a deposition. Even though all the lights were out, she told police that she knew it was Matthew "because the moonlight shined into the room through the large windows that faced the ocean." Jeff signed a deal with his brothers that prohibited him from owning Bay 101 stock until he got all the necessary licenses. When he was jailed, the desperate cop wrote a 15-page handwritten letter in pencil to George Bumb in May 1997 asking the Flea Market owner to bail him out. On weekends he'd bring his wife and a few of his 10 kids down there, too. In a statement to police, Jeff's daughter recounted how the first incident had happened the year before on the Fourth of July at a family beach house near Santa Cruz when the older boy allegedly started fondling her while she was asleep on the living room couch. On Nov. 8, 1995, attorney Albin Danell, Elizabeth's brother-in-law, contacted the police, apparently after consulting with Elizabeth. You know the school we went to?" He was also the kind of guy, police records reveal, who told his mother about the incidents "because he felt guilty." Toward the end of the call, things got heated. Don't Shoot: George Bumb Sr., the publicity-shy patriarch of the Bumb family and creator of the Flea Market, in a rare photo which appeared in California Today magazine in 1980. Bumb family attorney Ron Werner suggested that Jeff and his family had a hidden motive for waiting nearly a month to report the incident to police. FROM THE START, Jeff's three brothers and father didn't share his enthusiasm for opening a lavish gaming house. Within weeks, Jeff says, his six-month-old dog was dead, his cat was dead and the tires of a family car were slashed. "They had to find Snow White and Cinderella," Tim Bumb says, "and that was George and I." The guy doesn't get a slap on the hand." Now that their gaming license had been denied, a decision needed to be made--quickly. Originally he was scheduled for questioning on March 10, 1997, but the old man's lawyers explained that their client was extremely ill, suffering from "severe life-threatening conditions," practically on his death bed. But he didn't cash out. He followed that with suits alleging breach of contract, wrongful termination and misrepresentation. He followed that with suits alleging breach of contract, wrongful termination and misrepresentation. THINGS WERE certainly simpler back in the old days, before Bay 101, when the Bumbs were known for the Berryessa Flea Market, the family-owned business started in 1960 by 75-year-old family patriarch George Bumb Sr. And for nearly a month, they did. Matthew is the kind of guy a relative described to police as "polite," the guy parents wanted their daughters to date. After learning of the incident, Jeff and wife Elizabeth did not report the matter to police immediately. In February 1994, nearly one year after the San Jose City Council gave Bay 101 its blessing, the state denied the Bumbs and their partners' gaming license application. Tim Bumb says writing a letter on Jeff's behalf would have violated the agreement with the police chief and put the club in jeopardy. Christopher Gardner One month later, the state attorney general's office made a devastating announcement: Authorities had come across issues of "such magnitude" and "concern" that they would need at least another month to decide if gambling should be allowed at Bay 101. she said, referring to the family-run Catholic school at the Flea Market. The state, still busy conducting background checks, still hadn't approved the Bumbs and their partners' gaming licenses. Bumb family attorney Ron Werner suggested that Jeff and his family had a hidden motive for waiting nearly a month to report the incident to police. (In one case, George Bumb Sr. loaned Jeff $31,250 in 1992 for his son to invest in Bay 101.) Christopher Gardner Just so everyone got the point, Jeff Bumb announced to the press that he and Brian were divesting from Bay 101, and records show he eventually sold his shares for $1.4 million. Earlier this year, a month before Venzon was sentenced to 14 years in prison, district attorney investigator Michael Schembri closed out the Venzon case, noting in a court filing, "No new information has been uncovered relating to the murder for hire case [at the Flea Market] which our department investigated several years ago." His crimes included taking valuables from the bereaved family members of dead crime victims while pretending to console them. Christopher Gardner She told police about at least seven other sexual encounters she had with her cousin after that. The court saga evolved into a battle of wills between a father--a man who wouldn't even let the Vatican tell him what to do--and his oldest son, determined to break free from the old man's grasp. But Jeff Bumb would greatly prefer not to talk about this. Ultimately, the charges against the older Bumb were reduced to a misdemeanor. And for nearly a month, they did. Werner said no. But Jeff was confident. VENZON WAS well known to the Bumbs. The elder Bumb may not have been feeling well, but he wasn't too sick to remember who was boss in this family. But he didn't cash out. Almost four months later, on July 21, 1998, George Bumb Sr. appeared in the downtown offices of Berliner Cohen to have his deposition taken. George Bumb Sr.'s loan-repayment demands came in July 1996, just as his oldest son and his wife were about to move to Los Gatos and break away from the family and its eastside enclave. Of the four brothers, Tim and George had faced the least resistance from state gaming officials. Their pun-afflicted surname adds to the hillbilly mystique. OK--we didn't get out--OK? `He drives by every day on his way to his Maverick Consulting development business in Mountain View, but he never gets off the Brokaw/First Street exit to pay a visit. The card club has done more than bring unwanted public scrutiny to this insular group. Preventive Medicine: George Bumb Jr. is a co-owner of Bay 101, where a snakebite kit is kept on-hand as a family joke. At one point in the investigation, sheriff's detectives had Jeff's daughter call Matthew while he was working at the Flea Market to confirm the sexual activities. According to Jeff, there was tremendous pressure from his father and others in the family to keep the incest a secret. ALL TOGETHER, the intrafamily litigation has spanned nearly three years. But his dream, which now seemed so close to being a reality, was about to become a nightmare. But there was no gambling done that night. ON AUG. 11, 1995, Jeff sat in his Flea Market office scribbling on a piece of paper, plotting his grand return to his peach palace. "Jeff is a wheeler and dealer," explained his Uncle John, the Flea Market's executive vice president and owner of the Skeeball Arcade. (In one case, George Bumb Sr. loaned Jeff $31,250 in 1992 for his son to invest in Bay 101.) He asked longtime family attorney Ron Werner if his brothers could write a recommendation letter for him, something state officials had told him he would need to be considered eligible for a gaming license. Almost four months later, on July 21, 1998, George Bumb Sr. appeared in the downtown offices of Berliner Cohen to have his deposition taken. One month later, the state attorney general's office made a devastating announcement: Authorities had come across issues of "such magnitude" and "concern" that they would need at least another month to decide if gambling should be allowed at Bay 101. ON AUG. 11, 1995, Jeff sat in his Flea Market office scribbling on a piece of paper, plotting his grand return to his peach palace. Christopher Gardner Eight days after the molestation incident was reported to police--and one day after Jeff Bumb formally refused his father's $6.9 million buyout offer--George Bumb Sr. sent Jeff a curt typewritten memo informing Jeff that he was terminated effective immediately and had to clean out his desk before 5pm. The investigation was given a shot in the arm after the arrest of Johnny Venzon in 1997, a cop who made headlines for burglarizing homes while on duty to pay for his mounting gambling debts. ON AUG. 11, 1995, Jeff sat in his Flea Market office scribbling on a piece of paper, plotting his grand return to his peach palace. ALL TOGETHER, the intrafamily litigation has spanned nearly three years. (In one case, George Bumb Sr. loaned Jeff $31,250 in 1992 for his son to invest in Bay 101.) In a fit, he took the paper he was writing on, crumpled it up and threw it out the office door. "I don't need their help," he barked at Werner. One of George Bumb Sr.'s granddaughters explained to police that her family was very old-fashioned: "The woman gets the short end of the deal; she is a whore. Well, George, whether you want to believe it or not I do love you and you are like a father to me." First, Jeff tried to have the Bumb & Associates partnership dissolved after accusing his family of trying to force him out without paying him a fair price. Near the end Venzon writes, "They want to bring up the 'murder-for-hire' investigation again. Bumb family attorney Ron Werner suggested that Jeff and his family had a hidden motive for waiting nearly a month to report the incident to police. Tim Bumb says writing a letter on Jeff's behalf would have violated the agreement with the police chief and put the club in jeopardy. So Jeff, Brian and the remaining non-family partners backed out of Bay 101, handing everything over to Tim and George Jr. At the time, Jeff was in the midst of negotiating an arrangement to be bought out of the family businesses. The elder Bumb may not have been feeling well, but he wasn't too sick to remember who was boss in this family. It did the unthinkable: "Could he [Jeff] do any other work on his own behalf?" And it was very explicit in there that no Bumbs could have anything to do with the club. Within weeks, Jeff says, his six-month-old dog was dead, his cat was dead and the tires of a family car were slashed. Tim and George Jr. would appeal and reapply, the hope being that the club would open as soon as possible. "He took care of it." Tim now runs Bay 101, which he says is no easy task. After learning of the incident, Jeff and wife Elizabeth did not report the matter to police immediately. According to Jeff, there was tremendous pressure from his father and others in the family to keep the incest a secret. During the Venzon investigation, San Jose police dug up an old file from November 1990 in which Venzon, a sheriff's deputy, had reported his department-issued Smith & Wesson 9 mm automatic stolen. Matthew is the kind of guy a relative described to police as "polite," the guy parents wanted their daughters to date. Initially, police filed felony charges against Matthew Bumb for having oral sex with a minor and penetrating her with his fingers. Jeff was also getting word from his nieces and nephews that his father said at a family poker game: "If it was up to him, all the grandchildren would marry each other." Jeff's grandfather, Frank Bumb, had met his wife, Mary, at a card parlor in San Francisco where they worked. In a fit, he took the paper he was writing on, crumpled it up and threw it out the office door. Along the way, Jeff raised the ante, hiring Frank Ubhaus, a lawyer who represented Garden City card club, Bay 101's crosstown rival. Tim now runs Bay 101, which he says is no easy task. He demanded $10 million from his brothers to compensate him for violating the purported secret Bay 101 deal. You think this didn't break my heart?" You know the school we went to?" I'm on the hook for $15 million. The elder Bumb may not have been feeling well, but he wasn't too sick to remember who was boss in this family. In response to Jeff's legal attacks, George Bumb Sr. and Bumb & Associates filed two separate suits of their own to collect nearly $1 million in loans and interest they claimed Jeff never paid.