In May 1921, Mollie Burkhart faced a chilling episode near a valley on the Osage reservation, home to a Native American nation with a long, painful history. A body appeared, and the authorities assumed they could identify the deceased. The victim was Mollie’s sister, Anna Brown, missing for a week and found with a gunshot wound. The tragedy was not isolated: it was the beginning of a wave that would take several of Mollie’s relatives and circle back to the heart of a growing conspiracy.
During the early 1920s, dozens within the Osage Nation were murdered, poisoned, or removed under suspicious circumstances. The emerging story suggested a vast conspiracy; journalist investigators later highlighted this as a complex pattern linking crime, oil wealth, and state influence. The book Moon Killers: Oil, Money, Murder, and the Creation of the FBI by David Grann became a foundational source for understanding the period. The film adaptation, directed by Martin Scorsese, centers on the sensational case, with stars Leonardo DiCaprio and Robert De Niro rumored to headline a production that is anticipated to garner numerous awards and nominations.
The Osage Nation’s presence in the national spotlight is not a new development. In the early 20th century, the Osage held extraordinary prosperity after oil wealth transformed their fortunes. They had been forcibly removed from ancestral lands in 1871 and relocated to a reservation in Oklahoma. Grann notes that experts describe the region as rocky and barren, with conditions that seemed unsuited to large-scale cultivation, yet oil would reshape that assumption entirely.
Decades later, the Osage lands proved to be among the richest oil fields in the country. Those who controlled the wealth needed reliable labor and management, leading to the employment of white drivers and domestic staff while Osage families funded private education for their children. The money attracted a wave of unscrupulous operators and opportunists, but the roots of the exploitation ran deeper than individual greed. The pattern was orchestrated, in large part, by individuals and institutions with ties to power—both local and federal. The mechanisms of control extended to many, including professionals who should have protected and managed Osage assets but instead exploited them. The result was a vast network of abuses that siphoned wealth away from the Osage people.
Extracting oil wealth from Osage land required more than financial access. It demanded control over property and succession, which meant that the line of inheritance needed to stay within or be influenced by those outside the Osage community. The narrative Grann lays out goes beyond individual crimes; it details a chilling pattern in which white settlers and state actors manipulated marriages, testaments, and guardian arrangements to drain resources from Osage households. He writes, in stark terms, that the richest per capita in the world bore a brutal price for that position.
Mollie Burkhart endured losses that seemed to multiply with alarming speed. Her sisters and mother fell into a web of death and mystery, and Mollie resorted to hiring private investigators as a last line of defense. Years passed with little official progress, hampered by systemic corruption and limited local capacity. In 1925, J. Edgar Hoover recognized the case as a potential showcase for the newly formed Federal Bureau of Investigation, aiming to demonstrate strength and authority through public action. The campaign around the investigation, however, also served as a broader display of federal power, even as the human toll continued. Mollie, meanwhile, endured peril and loss for many years, appearing increasingly worn by the ordeal.
The narrative surrounding Mollie’s life and the involvement of her husband, Ernest Burkhart, forms a central throughline for Scorsese’s adaptation of Moon Killers. In the film, Lily Gladstone portrays Mollie and Leonardo DiCaprio plays Ernest, delivering performances that highlight the emotional gravity of the period. The movie shifts the focus from a slow, book-driven inquiry to a cinematic investigation anchored by the FBI’s early efforts and Tom White, the agent played by Jesse Plemons. The approach emphasizes the systemic corruption and the scale of exploitation, presenting a vivid portrait of a community battered by greed and power. Both the book and the film agree that justice was not fully realized in the end, despite the pursuit of truth.
Ultimately, several men were convicted and imprisoned, marking a milestone for the FBI as a major early victory and channeling funds to sustain the agency. Yet the broader reality remained devastating: the Osage massacre encompassed at least 24 documented deaths within five years, while estimates from experts suggest hundreds of related killings over two decades. Grann’s account notes widespread complicity and the lasting impact on Osage life, with many perpetrators never held to account and wealth permanently diverted. The story remains a stark reminder of how power and profit can collide with human life in the most brutal ways, and it invites continued reflection on the pursuit of justice for Indigenous communities. It is a cautionary tale about how institutions can fail those they are meant to protect, and how resilience can emerge even in the wake of terrible injustice.