Murder: True Crime Stories - UNSOLVED: The Whistleblower Murder 2

Episode Date: April 29, 2025

In 1974, 28-year-old Karen Silkwood was on her way to meet with a New York Times reporter. She planned to blow the whistle on the numerous safety issues at the nuclear power plant where she worked. But before she could get there, Karen was killed in a violent car crash. Her friends and co-workers couldn’t help but wonder: was Karen murdered to stop her from sharing the truth? Murder: True Crime Stories is a Crime House Original. For more, follow us on all social media, @crimehouse To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

This is Crime House. We all want certainty in our lives. We use phrases like, the cold hard truth and facts are facts. But sometimes the pieces just don't line up, no matter how you look at them. One way to view the story of Karen Silkwood is like this. She was under extreme stress and took a powerful sedative to manage her anxiety. While under the influence of those drugs, she died in a car accident. All of those statements are true.

But so are these. Karen was a union organizer who planned to give incriminating documents about her company to a reporter. Despite her experience driving race cars, her vehicle crashed on her way to the meeting. She was found dead in the wreckage, and those incriminating documents were never seen again. So what you believe happened to Karen Silkwood might not depend on whether or not you know the truth, but on which truths you pay attention to. you pay attention to. People's lives are like stories. With a beginning, a middle, and an end. But sometimes the final chapter comes far too soon,

and we don't always get to know the real ending. I'm Carter Roy, and this is Murder Murder True Crime Stories, a Crime House original. Thank you to our Crime House community. Please rate, review, and follow Murder True Crime Stories to show your support. And to enhance your listening experience with ad-free early access to each two-part series plus bonus content, subscribe to Crime House Plus on Apple Podcasts. New episodes come out every Tuesday. And if you're interested in more true crime stories from this week in history, check out

Crime House The Show. Each episode covers multiple cases unified by the same theme, so every week you get something a little different. This is our second and final episode on the suspicious death of 28-year-old Karen Silkwood. In 1974, she planned to expose the safety issues at the nuclear power plant where she worked, but before she could reveal the truth about the facility Karen was killed Last time I told you about Karen's career at a nuclear site in Oklahoma and her decision to get involved with the facilities union She continued to fight for worker safety

Even after being exposed to radioactive plutonium herself. I also went through the days leading up to the car crash that claimed her life. Today, I'll detail the collision and the controversial investigation that followed. Decades later, the truth about Karen's death is still being debated. Although it was ruled an accident, there are many people out there who believe Karen was actually murdered. All that more coming up. Hey, it's Carter and if you love murder true crime stories, where we explore the depths of history's most infamous murders, then you have to check out Clues with Morgan Absher and Kailyn Moore. Just like we search for the real story each week, every Wednesday Kailyn and Morgan take

you deep into the world of the most notorious crimes ever, Clue by Clue. From serial killers to shocking murders, Clues dives into all the forensic details and brilliant sleuthing of the world's most infamous cases. Clues is a Crime House original powered by Pave Studios. New episodes drop every Wednesday. Just search Clues wherever you listen to podcasts. From early morning workouts that need a boost to late night drives that need vibes,

a good playlist can help you make the most out of your everyday. And when it comes to everyday spending, you can count on the PC Insider's World Elite MasterCard to help you earn the most PC optimum points everywhere you shop. With the best playlists, you never miss a good song. With this Around 7pm on the night of November 13th, 1974, 28-year-old Karen Silkwood was at the Hub Cafe in Crescent, Oklahoma for a union meeting. The restaurant was just six miles away from Kermagee's Cimarron fuel fabrication site and a popular hangout for employees like her. Karen was one of three bargaining committee members at her company for the Oil Chemical and Atomic Workers Union or OCAW. She joined after being exposed to plutonium on the job.

Then in a second incident her apartment had been contaminated so badly all her possessions had to be thrown out. Those experiences made Karen Moore committed to fighting for better worker safety. Especially because many of her co-workers had no idea how dangerous plutonium could be. Most didn't even realize it could cause cancer until the Union warned them about it. It was extremely concerning. But that night, on November 13, Karen was worried about something even more terrifying. Kermagee was dangerously understaffed. She suspected the company didn't have the resources to do things by the books. So, they were fudging quality control reports and shipping defective fuel rods to be used in an experimental nuclear reactor. If Karen's suspicions were true,

it meant those fuel rods could cause nuclear disaster. The reactor could melt down completely, nuclear disaster. The reactor could melt down completely, leaving land and water permanently contaminated with radiation. Karen knew she had to blow the whistle. That night she had an 8 o'clock meeting in Oklahoma City with New York Times reporter David Burnham. She had promised him proof of those defective fuel rods. A story confirming Karen's allegations would have been a major scandal. As she left the Hub Cafe, Karen stopped to chat with her friend and co-worker, Gene Jung. She showed Gene a dark brown cardboard folder. According to a sworn affidavit by Jean, Karen said the folder held evidence of the defective fuel rods. Once Karen handed everything over to the New York Times

reporter, she planned to quit and find a new career, far away from nuclear energy. But for now, she was still working a job that caused her severe anxiety. So after saying goodbye to Jean, Karen took a couple of Quaaludes to help her relax. She had been dependent on the highly addictive pills for more than a year at this point. At about 7.10pm, Karen got into her 1973 white Honda Civic, which she raced as a hobby on the weekends. She was serious enough about the sport that she'd customized the car with high-traction tires and a special racing mirror. Then, Karen pulled out of the hub cafe's parking lot and headed towards Oklahoma City

on Highway 74. At 7.30 pm, just about 20 minutes after Karen left the meeting, a trucker going down Highway 74 noticed something strange in a drainage ditch on the side of the road. He pulled over and shined his lights on it. That's when he saw Karen Silkwood's Honda crushed against the ditch's concrete wall. The trucker called 911, and the Oklahoma Highway Patrol quickly dispatched 24-year-old Rick Fagan to the scene. He graduated from the Oklahoma Patrol Academy earlier that year and had only been on the force about five months at the time of Karen's death, and he was about to be thrown into

the deep end. It's hard to convey exactly how bad the wreck was. Black and white photos of the car show it was so distorted it wasn't even shaped like a sedan anymore. Its front end was smashed into a rectangle, making it more like a Volkswagen bus. Two paramedics responded alongside Trooper Fagan, but there was nothing they could do for Karen. The steering wheel had shoved her upwards and pinned her against the roof.

They rushed her to the hospital, where the 28-year-old was declared dead on arrival. Meanwhile, back at the scene of the crash, Trooper Fagan started writing up a report. He guessed Karen had hit the concrete wall at about 45 miles per hour. If that estimate was correct, her car had barely slowed down between leaving the road and hitting the wall. But based on the tire tracks, her vehicle had veered off the paved road onto the grassy shoulder almost a hundred yards before crashing. The length of a football field seemed enough distance for a skilled driver like Karen to slow down quite a bit, especially since she had high-traction tires. But Trooper Fagan didn't see any evidence Karen had even tried to stop the car. Her

tire tracks through the grass didn't appear to swerve, and when he walked back up the road to where Karen's car veered off, he didn't find any broken glass or debris from the Honda or another vehicle, which suggested this wasn't a hit and run. Based on what Trooper Fagan saw, the story seemed relatively simple. Karen must have dozed off. Surely if she'd been awake, she would have stomped on the brakes before hitting the wall. So in the end, Fagan ruled the crash a one-car accident. It all seemed pretty logical, especially once it came out that Karen had taken Quaaludes before leaving the Hub Cafe.

But there was one big thing about the crash site that didn't line up with Trooper Fagan's conclusion. Word travels fast in small towns. When Fagan arrived, he found a small crowd already gathered. Among the bystanders were two men and a teenage boy. They'd spotted the wreck while driving by and stopped to help. Later they made witness statements to Kerr-McGee investigators. All three of them described seeing papers scattered in the mud around Karen's car. They also swore they watched a highway patrolman toss them back inside the

vehicle. Trooper Fagan later confirmed to the FBI that he saw papers and a spiral-bound notebook at the scene, and he described them as being neatly stacked in the back seat, like someone had put them there. However, he hadn't done it, and he didn't report seeing anything scattered around the car. But if he didn't put those documents back inside, who was the patrolman those witnesses saw? More than that, it's hard to imagine that stacks of paper would have stayed neatly piled in the backseat after such a violent crash. Whatever the truth was, there was one important item that nobody mentioned seeing. The brown folder Karen had shown to her friend that was supposedly full of evidence against

Kerr McGee. It's hard to know what was or wasn't at the crash site. Very few photos were taken at the time, and none of them show Karen's papers in the car or otherwise. What we can say for certain is, if there were any documents on the ground, they must have been gathered up pretty quickly. Because at 8.30pm, about an hour after the trucker first spotted Karen's wrecked car, a tow truck driver named Ted Sebring arrived at the scene.

He noticed the heavy mud, but didn't see any loose papers either. It took the help of another tow truck driver, but Ted managed to get the vehicle out of the ditch. He arrived at his auto garage in Crescent, Oklahoma about 9.30 pm. After towing Karen's car inside, he went straight home. He didn't know anything about Karen or the plutonium in her apartment, so he wasn't worried about the car being potentially contaminated. But someone else was. Around midnight, a representative from the Atomic Energy Commission,

the federal agency overseeing nuclear facilities, called Trooper Fagan. They asked if they could test Karen's car for radioactivity. Fagan agreed. He got the keys from Ted and drove over to the garage. When Fagan arrived, he was greeted by a team of three men waiting for him. They were two unnamed AEC officials and a physicist from Karen's employer, Kermagee. It's not clear why the AEC officials invited someone from Kermagee to join them, but many nuclear safety activists at the time believed the AEC cared more about the nuclear industry than public health, and Karen posed a very real threat to that industry. If she'd made it to her destination with the proof she claimed to have, it could have cost Kermage millions of dollars, even without the brown folder that had gone missing. And as Trooper Fagan opened the garage for the three men, they had an

opportunity to make sure none of Karen where we explore the depths of history's most infamous murders, then you have to check out Clues with Kailyn Moore and Morgan Absher. Just like we search for the real story each week, every Wednesday, Morgan and Kailyn take you deep into the world of the most notorious crimes ever, clue by clue. I really think you're going to appreciate the care and attention that Kalen and Morgan put into breaking down how even the smallest pieces of evidence have cracked major cases wide open. From serial killers to shocking murders, Clues dives into all the forensic details and brilliant

sleuthing of the world's most infamous cases. If you're looking for compelling storytelling, crime scene analysis, and a new perspective through some of the world's most puzzling true crime cases, then you have to check out Clues. Clues is a crime house original powered by Pave Studios. New episodes drop every Wednesday. Just search clues wherever you listen to podcasts. On the evening of November 13, 1974, 28-year-old Karen Silkwood died in a car crash on her way to a meeting with New York Times reporter David Burnham But David didn't know that yet and neither did Drew Stevens or Steve Wodka

Drew was Karen's on-again-off-again boyfriend Steve worked at the headquarters of Karen's Union in Washington DC and the two of them had become good friends in DC, and the two of them had become good friends. That night, all three men were waiting anxiously in the lobby of an Oklahoma City Holiday Inn for Karen. She was supposed to be at the hotel already. Her meeting with David was scheduled for 8pm, but the time came and went, and there was no sign of Karen. At first they just thought she was late, but as the hours ticked by they got worried that something nefarious was going on.

Things they brushed off earlier started to seem suspicious, like how the hotel had no record of Steve's reservation. He traveled a lot and always stayed at a Holiday Inn. He'd never had an issue with his reservations before. Something just didn't seem right. After hanging around the hotel for two hours at 10pm, Steve, Drew, and David decided it was time to call around. Maybe something had happened to Karen. They returned to Steve's room, and he phoned the Hub Cafe. The cafe confirmed the union meeting was long over.

After that, Steve contacted one of Karen's colleagues on the bargaining committee. He told Steve there had been an accident, but he didn't know if Karen was okay. Steve called the police and they confirmed Karen was dead. Devastated, he hung up and broke the news to Drew, who burst into tears and shut himself in the bathroom. By the time Drew came out, he had a theory. Karen had been murdered. Drew had gotten Karen into racing.

He knew how well she could drive. From his point of view, if she'd veered off the highway and crashed, it was because someone ran her off the road. Steve and David agreed. They decided to go to the crash site for themselves and try to figure out what really happened. By the time Karen's friends arrived at the accident site, there wasn't much to see. The car was gone and so were the police. They noticed Karen's tire tracks and followed them.

Near the drainage ditch, they found one piece of paper the Highway Patrol had seemingly missed, Karen's paycheck, half hidden in the mud. They pocketed the document and left, but they weren't done looking for evidence. The next morning around 10.30, all three men met with Trooper Fagan. Steve and Drew tried to explain that his theory about a one-car accident didn't track with what they knew about Karen. They told Fagan about her driving abilities and about how important her meeting was that night. In their minds, she couldn't possibly have gotten that drowsy, not with how much adrenaline

would have been pumping through her veins, knowing she was about to blow the lid off a massive nuclear scandal. However, Fagan wasn't convinced. Steve was flabbergasted, but he wasn't about to let Karen's case go cold, even if he had to investigate it himself. His first matter of business, finding the bombshell evidence Karen was carrying in her car when she crashed. He called up Karen's dad who gave him, Drew, and David permission to gather her belongings from the smashed Honda.

The garage handed them a taped up box. They were eager to rip it open and see what they could learn. But all the documents inside were just union paperwork. That wasn't what Karen had said she was bringing to their meeting, or what Karen had shown her friend Gene as she left the Union meeting. When the men heard Karen's car had been screened for radioactivity under the watchful eye of a Kermagee representative, they realized what must have happened. The only way to thoroughly test for contamination is to run a Geiger counter over every surface. Every piece of paper would

have been tested separately, likely on both sides. Steve, Drew, and David believed the AEC men or the Kermagee physicist had taken the documents with them for testing, and they didn't plan to give them back. But there were no security cameras in the garage. If anything was taken from Karen's car, there was no way to prove it. While Steve, Drew, and David were puzzling over the box of papers from Karen's Honda, Trooper Fagan was doing his due diligence. He interviewed people who saw Karen at the union meeting half an hour before she died.

The next day, November 15th, he filed an accident report. He wrote that Karen was drinking before her accident, but that belief was misguided. She drank iced tea at the Hub Cafe, and a dried red liquid found in her car turned out to be tomato juice. Another claim in Fagan's accident report, that Karen was tired after driving back from medical testing at Los Alamos a few days prior, wasn't true either. She didn't drive to or from Los Alamos. She flew both ways. Fagan's report was right about one thing, though. He wrote that Karen was under the influence of drugs, though neither Karen's autopsy report

nor an analysis of the two pills found in her purse had been completed. So it seems like whoever Trooper Fagan interviewed at the Hub Cafe might have known about Karen's history with Quaaludes. Or just made a lucky guess. Steve was upset by Fagan's report, and his own investigation wasn't going anywhere. So he called his bosses in Washington, D.C. Remember, Steve worked for the national leadership of Karen's union, the OCAW, and D.C. was his home. He'd just flown out for the meeting with Karen.

One of Steve's closest colleagues and one of the most powerful men in the Union was 48-year-old Tony Mazaki. Tony knew Karen. He was one of the first to hear her allegations about Kermage shipping defective nuclear fuel rods. He remembered her as smart and determined, not the kind of person to make a stupid mistake when she was just about to complete her mission. Tony agreed with Steve, and convinced the union to hire their own investigator to look into Karen's death. A day later, a man named A.O. Pipkin arrived in Oklahoma City with his camera and a case of

specialized tools. At 44 years old, Pipkin had already investigated more than 2,000 vehicular accidents. With his tousled hair and coveralls, he looked more like a plumber than a detective, but he loved what he did. You might even call it an obsession. The trickier the investigation, the better. Pipkin was often called on as an expert witness, which meant he didn't consider his work complete unless it could hold up in a court of law. In other words, nobody was better suited to figure out what happened to Karen than him. Pipkin got to work right away, carefully examining both Karen's Honda and the crash scene.

Almost immediately, he found something everyone else had missed. Fresh concave dents on the car's left rear fender and bumper. Now, those dents could have happened when the tow truck hoisted Karen's car out of the concrete ditch and hit the sidewall, but Pipkin didn't think that was the case. His analysis, and later the FBI's, found no concrete residue on the left rear bumper or fender. Pipkin also noticed something else wrong with trooper Fagan's version of events. Karen's steering wheel was bent on the sides, not on the top, the way it would have been if she was unconscious at the time of the crash. Pipkin believed this meant Karen must have been awake and holding the wheel tightly,

even bracing herself by locking her elbows as her car careened towards the ditch. Which begs the question, if she was conscious, how did she crash? And if those dents didn't come from the ditch, where did they come from? By November 18th, five days after the accident, Pipkin had gathered enough evidence to announce his theory. Karen's car was hit from behind by another vehicle and forced off the road. She died wide awake and terrified, trying to fight her way off the grass shoulder and back onto the highway. Karen's family and friends felt vindicated. Finally someone believed Karen wasn't to blame for her death, but it did nothing to calm

their fears. Because if Pipkin was right, the killer was still out there. On November 18, 1974, renowned accident investigator A.O. Pipkin reached a conclusion in the car crash that killed Karen Silkwood. He told Karen's union he believed her car was forced off the road by another vehicle, but the Oklahoma Highway Patrol wasn't convinced. Tony Mazzocchi, the union official who'd hired Pipkin, wasn't willing to take the highway patrol at their word. After hearing Pipkin's theory,

Tony wanted the federal government to conduct its own investigation into Karen's death. He sent Pipkin's initial report to the Attorney General of the United States, and just for good measure, he also gave a copy of Pipkin's message to the media. It unleashed a firestorm, both in public and in private. Before Pipkin could even publish his final report, the famous Pinkerton Detective Agency delivered a report to Kermagee that made him sound totally unqualified. But oddly enough, totally unqualified. But oddly enough, Kermage denied hiring the Pinkerton agency to do any work on Karen's case. The company claimed the Pinkertons came out of nowhere, delivered a report, and never even billed the company. Soon Pipkin found himself spending as much time batting away false accusations as actually preparing his report.

He even flew an engineer with expertise in accident analysis to Oklahoma City to double check his work. Pipkin told the engineer to poke as many holes in his theory as possible before he released his final report. Finally, on December 15th, just over a month after Karen died, Pipkin had dotted every I and crossed every T. He released his findings. Of course, this drew a lot more media coverage. The Oklahoma Highway Patrol decided to look into the matter again, this time assigning the case to a veteran accident investigator, Lt. Larry Owen. Then another bombshell dropped.

On December 16, the day after Pipkin released his report, the Atomic Energy Commission shared their own findings. Remember how Karen's apartment was mysteriously contaminated with plutonium? The AEC now knew exactly how this happened. After Karen's first contamination incident, she was required to collect all of her urine and bowel movements for testing. The AEC claimed Karen's sample kits were found to be highly radioactive, meaning they were contaminated before she used them. There was no procedure for testing fresh collection kits when leaving the plant. Assuming they were safe, she didn't treat the kits as hazardous until she'd used and sealed them. So Karen had spread the plutonium

around by handling the empty kits and then touching other items in her apartment. The AEC had answered one question, but raised two more in the process. Who would want to contaminate Karen's sample kits and why? It seemed like this was the moment Karen's loved ones had been waiting for. They hoped the revelations from the AEC would lead the authorities to open a full investigation into the crash. They waited on pins and needles. But when the press conference finally came, it left them unsatisfied. The Highway Patrol announced that a new team led by Lieutenant Owen had looked into all

the new allegations and it had decided Trooper Fagan was right the first time. With local law enforcement sticking to the one-car accident theory, Caron's union convinced the federal government to do its own investigation. In early 1975, the FBI dispatched an agent, 42-year-old Lawrence J. Olsen, to Oklahoma. Originally, Agent Olsen was just there to investigate what happened on the night Karen died. But in February of 1975, under pressure from the OCAW's national leadership in Washington, D.C., the FBI expanded its investigation to look into how Karen's sampling kits became contaminated as well. It was promising, but according to Karen's friend Steve Wodka, Agent Olson came to town with one suspect already in mind, Karen Silkwood herself.

He thought maybe Karen had spiked her sampling kits in order to embarrass Kerr McGee. Still the OCAW didn't give up, and neither did Karen's parents, Bill and Meryl Silkwood. With the help of the Environmental Policy Center, or EPC, they pressured Congress to look into the issue too, but despite launching multiple investigations, none reached any definitive conclusions. But there was still one federal organization looking into Kermagee, the Atomic Energy Commission, and its final report, released sometime in mid-1975, vindicated Karen Silkwood on several fronts.

Not only was she right that there were health and safety issues at the Cimarron plant, she was right to question the company's quality control practices. The AEC caught Kermage employees using felt tip markers to doctor photographs of fuel rods to hide flaws. But the most explosive finding of all? There was plutonium missing from the plant, 40 pounds of it in all, enough to make multiple nuclear bombs. Kermage said this plutonium wasn't really missing, it was just stuck in the plant's pipes. They claimed to have found most of it after flushing the pipes with acid, but former Kermage employees disputed that claim, including some of the plant's most experienced nuclear safety workers, Jim Smith and Jerry Cooper.

Both were former Kermagee department heads. They said at least 22 pounds of plutonium was never properly accounted for. That's enough for at least two atomic bombs. If those chemicals got into the wrong hands, the entire world could be in danger. With controversy swirling around the plant, the federal government decided not to renew Kerr-McGee's contract to produce nuclear fuel. The Cimmeron fuel fabrication site shut down in December 1975, leaving most of Karen's former colleagues out of work. But even if Karen hadn't said anything at all about the safety issues at the plant, it only would have existed for a few more months.

In 1976, President Gerald Ford decided that reprocessing plutonium into new nuclear fuel was just too dangerous. He suspended the whole experiment that Kermagee had been a part of. The following year, President Jimmy Carter banned it completely. Most other countries followed suit, suspending their own plutonium reprocessing programs too. So, within two years of her death, Karen got the results she wanted most of all. None of her young, naive colleagues would ever have to work with dangerous plutonium again. It was an important achievement, but Karen's

family still wanted justice. And if it wasn't going to come in the form of criminal charges, there was still one other option to pursue. On November 5th, 1976, almost two years after the crash and just eight days before the statute of limitations was set to expire, Karen's parents filed a civil lawsuit against Kermagee for wrongful death. It was an uphill battle, not just in courts, but to raise the money needed to fight the company. Luckily for the Silkwood family, all the media coverage of Karen's life and

death had made her into a folk hero. Feminists were inspired by her work as the first woman to be elected to a leadership position in her union, environmentalists were moved by her advocacy against nuclear contamination, and civil libertarians feared she was murdered for trying to expose corporate interests. All of them came together to raise money for the Silkwood lawsuit. There were charity rock concerts, folk songs about Karen's life, direct mail fundraising campaigns and celebrity backers.

Even Rolling Stone magazine asked its readers to give to the cause. In early 1979, after years of preparation, the trial finally got underway in front of a six-person civil jury. And that's when the strangest moment of all happened. Presiding over the courtroom was Judge Frank Tice. At some point during the trial, the Silkwoods lawyers notified him that they planned to call a new witness to the stand. This person would testify that the plutonium missing from Karen's workplace was smuggled

out of the United States to build nuclear weapons. But then, Judge Tice called the attorneys into a secret hearing and informed them their witness wasn't allowed to testify. He explained it was out of his hands, and that the FBI and the CIA had visited him, and they didn't want the witness to talk. A later investigation by an Oklahoma news station uncovered an autobiography in which Judge Tice wrote cryptically about this moment. Apparently, those federal agencies had decided the testimony would have been a threat to national security and put the lives of US spies at risk.

In other words, the missing plutonium was related to some sort of top-secret operation that was still ongoing. So maybe Karen was onto something even bigger than she understood. Something big enough to get her killed. During the trial, Kermagee did its best to question Karen's character. They brought up her sex life for occasional marijuana use, anything to make her seem like an unreliable source. It didn't work.

The jury listened to Karen's side of the story as told by numerous expert witnesses. This included a highly respected nuclear scientist who testified that the contamination in Karen's lungs had rendered her, quote, married to lung cancer. In other words, if she had survived that car accident, lung cancer might have taken her life instead. As Karen's lawyers pointed out, Karen knew it was extremely dangerous to inhale plutonium. If she just wanted to embarrass Kermagee, maybe she'd have contaminated her skin, but never her lungs. She was terrified of getting lung cancer, talking about it off and on for weeks before she died.

With that in mind, the jury awarded Karen's family more than $10 million. Kermage challenged the award. The case went all the way up to the U.S. Supreme Court, which in January of 1984 upheld the jury's verdict but sent the case back to a lower court for another hearing on damages. By then it had been almost ten years since Karen died. Her kids were now 17, 14, and 13. The younger two could barely even remember their mother, and all three of them were tired of the spotlight. To avoid putting the family through another years-long trial, the Silkwoods settled out

of court for $1.38 million. This was as close to justice as Karen herself would ever really get, but she did help shut down Kermagee for good. The company was accused of serious illegal environmental contamination not just in Oklahoma but at several of its work sites. In 2014, 30 years after the jury verdict in the Silkwood Family Civil Case, the U.S. Department of Justice and the Kermagee Corporation announced a $5.5 billion settlement. It drove Kermagee into bankruptcy. Efforts to clean up the natural

environments they polluted, some of them with radioactive waste, including the Cimarron site, are still ongoing. As for Karen's death, it's been reinvestigated many times, most recently in 2024 for a 50th anniversary commemoration. An ABC documentary crew teamed up with two newspaper reporters who covered Karen's crash back in 1974. They commissioned a top accident investigator, Steve Irwin, to reanalyze those dents on Karen's bumper. When Ayo Pimpkin died in 2011, one of his last requests was for his daughter to keep the dented bumper.

He considered it evidence in an unsolved murder. Erwin was able to support one big piece of Pimpkin's theory. Karen was awake at the time of her accident. Using cutting edge software, he showed that Karen did try to steer her car back onto the road. But even with the latest tech, Irwin couldn't say for sure whether or not a second car was involved in the crash. So this mystery remains unsolved for now.

Maybe a witness will eventually come forward. Until then we may never know the full story about Karen's death, which is why it's so important to focus on her life. Today she's remembered as a loving parent, a groundbreaking activist, and a heroic whistleblower. And her kids are still fighting for her 50 years later, the same way Karen fought for so many others. Thanks so much for listening. I'm Carter Roy and this is Murder True Crime Stories. Come back next week for the story of another murder and all the people it affected.

Murder True Crime Stories is a CrimeHouse original. Here at CrimeHouse we want to thank each and every one of you for your support. If you like what you heard today, reach out on social media at CrimeHouse. Don't forget to rate, review, and follow Murder True Crime Stories wherever you get your podcasts. Your feedback truly makes a difference. We'll be back next Tuesday. Murder True Crime Stories is hosted by me, Carter Roy, and is a CrimeHouse original powered by PAVE Studios.

This episode was brought to life by the Murder True Crime Stories team, Max Cutler, Ron Shapiro, Alex Benedon, Natalie Pertsofsky, Lori Marinelli, Sarah Camp, Yelena Warr, Beth Johnson, and Russell Nash. Thank you for listening. How can one tiny clue change everything? Kailin Moore and Morgan Absher break it all down on their new show Clues. New episodes drop every Wednesday. Just search Clues wherever you listen to podcasts.