Sacramento has always been a casino without clocks—no daylight, no rules, just money moving in shadows. But the Bonta empire? They’ve turned it into a private high-roller suite, where tribal gaming moguls, card-room operators, and political rainmakers slip chips across the felt in exchange for influence that flows straight from Mia’s campaign vaults to Rob’s Attorney General war room.
The Current Report first exposed the Bontas’ Duong-tainted legal lifeline, a half-million-dollar lifeline that aged about as well as milk in a heatwave, a deeper excavation of campaign filings reveals the real jackpot: over $350,000 in gaming industry cash pumping through the Bonta family pipeline since 2021.
And who’s holding the bigger purse? Not California’s top cop. Not the AG. It’s Mia Bonta, the “accidental Assembly member” who, in just her first year on the ballot, hoovered up gaming money like she was running for statewide office, not a safely blue East Bay seat.
Let’s start with the numbers, because the numbers don’t lie, even when politicians do.
In her 2021 special election (the seat Rob conveniently vacated when Newsom tapped him as AG), Mia’s campaign ballooned to $460,244. Nearly $92,000 of that, around 20%, came from casinos, tribes, and gaming-adjacent PACs. That haul dwarfed Rob’s early takes and immediately raised one red flag:
Why does a local Assembly seat need casino super-donors?
It didn’t.
But Rob Bonta did.
The tribes were gearing up for a ballot war, Prop 26 vs. Prop 27, a multimillion-dollar death match between tribal operators and online betting giants. And while Rob publicly played Switzerland, Mia was quietly becoming the preferred deposit box for tribes who couldn’t cut checks directly to the Attorney General without raising eyebrows.
Janani Ramachandran, Mia’s 2021 challenger, called it out in real time: “Legalized corruption.” “A spousal shell game.” “Return the money or recuse the AG.”
The Bontas did neither. And when the dust settled, both sports-betting props cratered, but tribes won the ground war. Mia kept the cash. And Rob kept the power.
Fast-forward to today: Mia has raked in $1.84 million raised, $2.38 million spent, and nearly $400,000 cash on hand. The gaming money that once gushed in is now a steady drip from CNIGA affiliates, Pechanga’s political arms, and tribal alliances quietly preparing for the 2026 reboot of sports betting.
While Mia stacked chips, Rob did what every good partner at the table does, he made the right moves for the right donors.
Consider the timing:
July 2021: One month into his AG seat, Rob’s campaign pockets the maximum $16,200 from the Bicycle Casino in Bell Gardens.
At the same moment, the AG’s Bureau of Gambling Control is probing the Bike for $100 million in suspicious cash tied to money laundering.
The outcome?
The feds fined them $500,000. Bonta filed no charges.
A magician’s disappearing act, worthy of a Vegas residency.
Meanwhile, tribal donations to Rob soared to $232,000+. Pechanga alone surged $101,500 between late 2023 and mid-2024, just as tribes lobbied aggressively to kneecap fantasy-sports operators.
Then came the cherry on top:
July 2025:
Rob issued an opinion declaring daily fantasy sports illegal in California, a decision tribes celebrated like a casino opening night.
Card rooms, now facing a potential statewide blackjack ban from Rob’s office, called it “revenge regulation.”
Tribal leaders called it “a long time coming.”
Both agreed on one thing: The Bontas were the dealers.
California’s ethics laws are a joke, but even the punchline has limits. Mia chairs the Assembly budget subcommittee overseeing the DOJ, Rob’s domain. She “recuses” herself from gaming matters purely on paper. Yet gaming money flows to her. And gaming rulings flow from him.
This isn’t coincidence. It’s choreography.
Critics say Mia is the velvet glove shielding Rob’s iron fist, a political laundering tool that lets the AG benefit from industry cash while keeping his own donor logs clean enough to pass the sniff test at a press conference.
Gaming insiders admit privately what Ramachandran screamed publicly back in 2021:
“The money’s not for her seat—it’s for his decisions.”
The Blackjack Ban Blowback: Card Rooms Revolt
Rob’s proposed statewide blackjack ban, couched as an “enforcement clarification”, has sent California’s card rooms into full-blown mutiny.
Workers marched on the Capitol.
Lobbyists accused the AG of running “a federally sanctioned tribal protection racket.”
X erupted with memes of Rob and Mia as blackjack dealers sweeping card-room chips into tribal vaults.
Meanwhile, the tribes?
Silent smiles.
Satisfied donors.
An AG ruling in their favor.
And a conveniently funded Assemblymember at arm’s length.
The Bontas built their brand on “equity,” “integrity,” and “community.”
But their gaming ledger tells a different truth:
Mia’s campaign is the soft landing spot for industry dollars.
Rob’s AG office is the hard enforcement arm that seems to tilt toward those donors.
The Duong scandal proved the Bontas had no shame in taking tainted money. The casino cash proves they have no hesitation steering state policy while collecting industry checks with the other hand.
The tribes are gearing up for another push on sports betting. Card rooms are bleeding out. Fantasy sports operators are gone. And the Bontas? They’re ready to ante up again.
The question is whether voters will finally see the game for what it is:
A family empire built not on public service, but on a political casino where the house is run by the Bontas
and the house always, always wins.
If California had real ethics enforcement, the Bonta deck would be scattered across the table by now.
Instead?
Sacramento just reshuffles, deals again, and pretends the chips aren’t stacked.
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