Why In the Dark of the Valley Still Haunts the Simi Valley Suburbs

Why In the Dark of the Valley Still Haunts the Simi Valley Suburbs

You’ve probably driven past a dozen places just like it. Quiet streets, kids on bikes, the kind of California suburbia that looks perfect in the golden hour light. But Simi Valley hides something heavy. If you’ve seen the documentary In the Dark of the Valley, you know the "perfection" is a thin veneer covering decades of radioactive dust and corporate silence. It’s not just a movie; it’s a warning about what happens when the government and big business decide a community is "acceptable collateral."

The film centers on the Santa Susana Field Laboratory (SSFL). It’s a 2,850-acre site perched on a plateau above the Simi and San Fernando Valleys. For years, it was the Wild West of nuclear research and rocket engine testing. Then, in 1959, the unthinkable happened. A partial nuclear meltdown. They didn't tell anyone for weeks. Actually, the public didn't really get the full scope of the disaster for decades.

The Meltdown Nobody Talked About

Most people know about Chernobyl or Three Mile Island. They’re the big names in nuclear "oops" moments. But the 1959 Sodium Reactor Experiment (SRE) meltdown at Santa Susana was a nightmare in slow motion. It wasn't a massive explosion. It was a leak. A hot, radioactive mess that seeped into the soil and drifted into the air.

Melissa Bumstead, the mother at the heart of In the Dark of the Valley, didn't start as an activist. She was just a mom whose daughter, Grace, was diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia. When you’re sitting in a pediatric oncology ward and you realize four other families from your neighborhood are there too, something clicks. You start asking: "Why?"

The documentary tracks this realization. It’s brutal to watch. You see these parents becoming amateur toxicologists and mapping out cancer clusters because the official agencies—the ones paid to protect us—basically said there was nothing to see here.

Why Boeing and NASA are in the Hot Seat

Ownership of the site is a tangled mess of bureaucracy. You have Boeing, NASA, and the Department of Energy (DOE) all owning different "areas" of the lab. This creates a perfect storm for finger-pointing. Boeing, which owns the majority of the land, has spent years in legal battles over cleanup standards.

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They’ve argued for a "suburban residential" or "open space" cleanup level. To a normal person, that sounds fine. To an expert, it’s a loophole. These standards determine how much radioactive soil actually gets hauled away. If you use the "open space" standard, you leave more toxins in the ground. The activists in In the Dark of the Valley argue for a "Background" cleanup—meaning, put the dirt back to the way it was before we started melting reactors there.

It’s about the wind. Simi Valley is famous for the Santa Ana winds. When those gusts kick up, they don't care about property lines. They carry dust from the plateau down into the backyards of families who moved there for the "clean" suburban air.

The Science of the "Rare"

There’s a specific kind of frustration that comes with being told your child’s cancer is a "statistical anomaly." In the film, the heartbreak is palpable. You see the maps. You see the pins representing sick kids.

A 2007 study by the University of Michigan, led by Professor Hal Morgenstern, found that people living within two miles of the site had a 60% higher rate of certain cancers. That’s not a small number. It’s a glaring red flag. Yet, the pushback from the responsible parties remains constant. They point to other factors. They cite different studies. They play a game of scientific whack-a-mole until the public gets tired and moves on.

But the parents featured in In the Dark of the Valley didn't move on.

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Toxic Politics and Broken Promises

In 2010, there was a glimmer of hope. The California Department of Toxic Substances Control (DTSC) signed agreements with the DOE and NASA to clean up the site to background levels by 2017.

Look at your calendar. It’s years past 2017.

The cleanup hasn't happened. Instead, we’ve seen a series of delays, environmental impact reports that take years to process, and a shift in political will. The documentary exposes the "Greenwashing" tactics used by corporations. They talk about the site as a "vital wildlife corridor." It sounds lovely, right? Protecting the mountain lions? Sure, until you realize that designating it as a "nature preserve" is a convenient way to avoid the billions of dollars it would cost to actually remove the radioactive isotopes like Cesium-137 and Strontium-90.

What Most People Get Wrong About Santa Susana

A lot of folks think this is "old news." They think because the reactors stopped running decades ago, the danger is gone. That is fundamentally wrong. Radioactivity has a half-life. Some of these isotopes stay dangerous for hundreds, even thousands of years.

Another misconception? That the Woolsey Fire in 2018 didn't change anything. When that fire tore through the SSFL site, it sent plumes of smoke over Los Angeles. The state agencies said no radiation was released. Independent researchers and the activists in the film say: "How could it not be?" If the plants and soil are contaminated, and you burn them, those contaminants go airborne. It's basic physics.

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In the Dark of the Valley isn't just about Simi Valley. It’s a microcosm of the American "Sacrifice Zone." It’s the story of Flint, Michigan. It’s the story of Love Canal. It’s what happens when the cost of fixing a mistake is higher than the perceived value of the lives affected by it.

A Community Refusing to Fade

Watching the film, you see the toll it takes on the families. It’s exhausting to be an activist when you’re also a caregiver. Melissa Bumstead’s group, Parents Against SSFL, has become a powerhouse. They’ve gone to Sacramento. They’ve gone to D.C. They’ve forced the issue back into the headlines when the authorities wanted it buried.

The documentary uses archival footage that is chilling. Black and white clips of scientists handling "hot" materials with what looks like kitchen tongs. It reminds you that we were experimenting with technology we didn't fully understand in a place where people were building their "forever homes."

Actionable Steps for the Concerned

If this story makes you angry, it should. But anger without action is just stress. Here is how you actually engage with the issues raised in the film:

  • Check the Maps: If you live in Ventura County or Western LA County, look at the topography. Understand where the SSFL sits in relation to your home. Awareness is the first step in protecting your family.
  • Support Independent Testing: Don't just rely on "official" reports. Support groups like Parents Against SSFL who advocate for independent, third-party monitoring of soil and air quality, especially after wildfires.
  • Lobby for the 2010 Agreement: The DTSC needs to be held to the 2010 Administrative Order on Consent (AOC). This is the "gold standard" for cleanup. Anything less is a compromise on public health.
  • Watch and Share: Most people haven't heard of the SSFL. Streaming In the Dark of the Valley and sharing it with neighbors is the easiest way to break the silence that Boeing and the DOE rely on.
  • Voter Accountability: Ask local and state candidates specifically about their stance on the Santa Susana cleanup. Don't accept vague answers about "environmental safety." Ask if they support a "cleanup to background" levels.

The story of the valley isn't over. As long as that dirt stays on the hill, the risk remains. The film ends, but the families are still there, still fighting, and still waiting for the day they can breathe the air without wondering what's hidden in the dust.