You’ve probably seen the headlines or caught a snippet of a six-hour podcast marathon by now. The name Bradley Geary has become a sort of lightning rod in the military community, usually followed by words like "Hell Week," "accountability," or "scapegoat." But honestly, if you're looking for a simple hero-or-villain story, you won't find it here. The reality of what happened under his watch at BUD/S is much messier than a thirty-second news clip.
Captain Bradley Geary isn't just a name on a legal brief. He spent 24 years in Naval Special Warfare. We're talking about a guy who graduated from the Naval Academy in 2000, specialized in Mathematics, and then went through the absolute meat grinder of SEAL Class 234. He led SEAL Team 4 and worked with the Tier 1 guys at DEVGRU. By the time he took over as the Commanding Officer of Naval Special Warfare Basic Training Command, he was basically the gatekeeper for the entire SEAL community.
Then February 2022 happened.
What Actually Happened at BUD/S Class 352?
Most people searching for Bradley Geary want to know about Kyle Mullen. Mullen was a 24-year-old former Yale football captain—a specimen of a human being—who died just hours after finishing Hell Week. For those who don't know, Hell Week is exactly what it sounds like: five and a half days of continuous training, maybe four hours of sleep total, and constant exposure to the freezing Pacific.
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Mullen died of acute pneumonia. But the investigation that followed didn't just look at his lungs; it looked at the man running the show.
The Navy's initial report was scathing. It depicted a training environment where instructors were "overzealous" and medical oversight was essentially a suggestion rather than a rule. Geary was accused of failing to provide proper medical support. The narrative was that the command had pushed these kids so hard that they were coughing up blood and too terrified to ask for help because they didn't want to be "rolled" or dropped from the program.
The PED Bombshell
Here’s where it gets complicated. Geary didn’t just take the hit and move on. He fought back, and he did it loudly.
He pointed to something the Navy seemed to want to downplay: Performance-Enhancing Drugs (PEDs). When investigators searched Mullen’s car, they found a pharmacy's worth of stuff—human growth hormone, testosterone, and other performance boosters.
Geary's defense basically boiled down to this: "We are running the hardest training in the world. If candidates are secretly taking drugs that enlarge their hearts and mask symptoms of infection, how is a training commander supposed to account for that?" He argued that Mullen’s death was a "misadventure" caused by personal choices, not a systemic failure of leadership.
The Navy's medical examiner didn't even test Mullen for PEDs during the initial autopsy. That oversight became a massive talking point for Geary and his legal team, led by Jason Wareham and Timothy Parlatore. They argued the Navy was trying to "crucify" a leader to appease the public instead of looking at the drug culture that had infested the ranks.
The Board of Inquiry and the 2024 Dismissal
For nearly two years, Geary was in a weird legal limbo. The Navy wanted an "Admiral’s Mast"—a form of non-judicial punishment. Geary said no. He basically dared them to take him to a Board of Inquiry, which is sort of like a trial for officers. He wanted the evidence out in the open.
Wait. Why would a guy risk his entire 24-year career on a public hearing?
Because he felt the Navy had "pre-judged" the issue. He claimed the Navy Secretary’s office had literally ordered investigators to scrub mention of PEDs from the public news releases. He wasn't just defending his rank; he was attacking what he called a "sinister" cover-up.
Then, in December 2024, the whole thing just... stopped.
The Navy’s top personnel officer, Vice Adm. Rick Cheeseman, dropped the cases against Bradley Geary and the senior medical officer, Cmdr. Erik Ramey. No board of inquiry. No official trial. Just a statement saying the process had "concluded."
There Are No Real Winners Here
Regina Mullen, Kyle’s mother and a registered nurse, was devastated. She has spent years fighting for accountability, arguing that her son had "crackling lungs"—a classic sign of pneumonia—and was given oxygen twice on the day he died. To her, the dismissal of charges felt like the Navy protecting its own.
On the other side, Geary’s supporters see it as a total vindication. They see a commander who refused to be the fall guy for a tragedy he couldn't prevent. But even his lawyer called the win "bittersweet." Geary is now retired. A 24-year career that was headed toward flag rank ended in a sea of litigation and public controversy.
What Has Changed Since the Bradley Geary Controversy?
You can’t have a death this high-profile without changes. The Navy didn't just shrug and move on. They’ve implemented several "reforms" that have fundamentally shifted how BUD/S works:
- PED Testing: For the first time, SEAL candidates are now subject to random urine testing for steroids and other performance enhancers.
- Medical Monitoring: There is now much more robust medical "top-off" after Hell Week. Candidates aren't just checked and sent to bed; they are monitored for respiratory issues more aggressively.
- Instructor Oversight: The role of civilian instructors—often older, more experienced SEALs who act as a "check" on the younger, more aggressive active-duty instructors—has been reinforced.
Actionable Insights for the Future
If you're following the Bradley Geary story because you're interested in leadership or the military, there are some pretty heavy takeaways here:
- Understand the "Zero-Fail" Trap: In high-stakes environments, there is often a push for a "fall guy" when things go wrong. Geary’s case shows that if you find yourself in that position, documenting your compliance with safety standards before a tragedy happens is your only real shield.
- The Culture of Silence: The most dangerous part of BUD/S wasn't the cold water; it was the fact that candidates were afraid to report symptoms. Whether you're in the SEALs or a corporate office, if your people are too scared to report "illness" or "failure," you have a ticking time bomb on your hands.
- Acknowledge Complexity: It is possible for two things to be true at once: the training cadre could have had better medical protocols, AND the candidate could have been using substances that complicated his medical condition. Life is rarely a neat "A vs. B" scenario.
As of early 2026, Bradley Geary has largely transitioned into the private sector, appearing on the speaker circuit and discussing "moral courage." The SEAL teams have moved on to Class 370 and beyond. But the shadow of February 2022 still hangs over the Coronado beach.
You can look at the evidence and decide for yourself if he was a leader holding the line or a commander who lost the bubble. Either way, the "Bradley Geary" chapter has changed the way America selects its most elite warriors forever.
Next Steps:
If you want to dig deeper into the actual investigative documents, you can search for the "Naval Education and Training Command (NETC) investigation into BUD/S Class 352." This 400-page report provides the raw data that the Navy—and Geary's defense—used to build their cases. It’s a dense read, but it’s the only way to see the facts without the filter of a podcast or a news anchor.