The National Park Service has a new policy about reporting deaths that happen in some of the nation’s most wild places.
According to a memo issued in December and recently viewed by The Washington Post, park staff and other workers are no longer authorized to confirm details about injuries and deaths that befall the park’s more than 300 million annual visitors.
Serious accidents and fatalities are uncommon but not unheard of in the parks, which host droves of tourists and a huge range of outdoor activities, from peak bagging and sport climbing to whitewater rafting. Historically, the National Park Service hasn’t hesitated to disclose details about accidents and fatalities in the parks, particularly because that information can be used to help visitors stay safe. On average, 358 people die each year in U.S. national parks. Excluding medical emergencies like heart attacks, the vast majority of these accidental deaths are caused by motor vehicle crashes, drownings, and falls
In the memo, the Department of the Interior states that it “shall not confirm a death,” a policy that applies to bureaus like the National Park Service and “all Interior communications involving fatalities, suspected fatalities, serious injuries, or emotionally sensitive incidents,” according to The Washington Post’s reporting. The department also cautioned employees not to confirm the severity of injuries or provide medical details, leaving the disclosure of deaths and other accident information to unspecified “appropriate authorities,” presumably law enforcement.
In a statement to Fast Company, the Interior Department disputed the Post’s characterization of the policy change. “The narrative being presented is false and reflects a significant mischaracterization of the department’s guidance,” an Interior Department spokesperson said, noting that the agency is committed to providing “timely and accurate” information that prioritizes notifying families first.
“The guidance was developed to create a more consistent approach to incident communications across the department and is not intended to conceal fatalities or delay information,” the spokesperson said. “We continue to provide public safety information, statements, news releases, and incident updates as appropriate, while respecting investigative processes, privacy considerations, next-of-kin notifications, and, in some cases, requests from family members not to release identifying information.”
As the Post notes, the Park Service has long released information about deaths and serious injuries as quickly as possible, often within 48 hours of an incident. This past weekend, a man died after being swept over a 600-foot waterfall in Yosemite National Park, among a handful of other fatalities. That incident does not yet appear on the National Park Service website, though some other fatalities have been documented there this year, including three heat-related deaths in the Grand Canyon earlier this month and a fatal fall from a lofty Zion National Park trail in April.
Grisly stories from America’s wild places
Deaths in the national parks, which in some cases have been documented for more than a century, are an ongoing source of morbid curiosity. The subject has inspired a few books, including one solely dedicated to stories of grizzly attacks and grisly tumbles into hot springs in Yellowstone, the country’s oldest park. Glacier National Park, a dramatic landscape of steep cliffs, crevasses, and frigid temperatures, also commands its own morbid collection.
The new reporting policy isn’t the only change to the national parks during the second Trump administration. Following Trump’s reelection, the federal government moved quickly to slash the Park Service’s budget with help from Elon Musk, then serving in a chaotic stint as DOGE’s top dog. Those cuts led to reduced visitor hours and understaffing in some of the national parks, which found themselves short on rangers and other workers—a shortfall that sowed concerns about safety.
Last year, the Trump administration also ordered the Interior Department to remove any signs, monuments, or installations in the parks that “inappropriately disparage Americans, past or living” in order to avoid depicting the country as racist, sexist, or oppressive—an ironic stroke of censorship, given the parks’ bloody origins as former Indigenous land.
That move presaged other philosophical shifts to the national parks system, like a new holiday celebrating Trump’s birthday, higher fees for non-U.S. residents, and annual passes featuring Trump himself rather than a majestic spoonbill or a snowy peak.
