The Brief

The Trump administration is accelerating plans to place a nuclear reactor on the moon to power a base for humans.

The reactor would launch to the moon by 2030, according to a directive by acting NASA Administrator Sean Duffy that was sent to NASA officials in July and obtained by NPR. It's an ambitious target that has some in the scientific community concerned about high costs and a potentially unrealistic schedule.

The plan follows the United States' goal to return astronauts to the moon and be a leader in space exploration as China and Russia also aim to use nuclear power on the moon by the end of the decade. Duffy said during a press conference on Tuesday that using nuclear energy as a power source on the moon is necessary to sustain life there — and that the U.S. is behind in its efforts.

"There's a certain part of the moon that everyone knows is the best. We have ice there. We have sunlight there. We wanna get there first and claim that for America," Duffy said.

Here is what to know about the administration's plans, and how using a nuclear reactor as a power source on the moon could work.

Why a nuclear reactor on the moon?

Spacecraft orbiting the Earth or stationed on the moon are typically powered by solar panels. But for any long-term human occupation of the moon, solar power alone won't be enough according to Roger Myers, an expert on space-based nuclear power.

"The sun sets on the moon for two weeks," he says. "You have to have another source of energy: The sun and batteries do not work. We're going to have to have nuclear power."

NASA now wants to launch a nuclear reactor of at least 100 kilowatts electric output, according to the directive. This would generate less power than typical nuclear reactors in the U.S. and could power only 70 to 80 homes, scientists say.

How would it work?

Nuclear reactors on the moon work in much the same way as reactors on Earth, according to Bhavya Lal, a former associate administrator for technology, policy and strategy at NASA. A controlled nuclear reaction in uranium fuel is used to generate heat that in turn can be used to make electricity.

That's very similar to how the 94 commercially operated nuclear reactors in the U.S. operate, according to the U.S. Department of Energy. A typical nuclear reactor in the U.S. generates at least 1 gigawatt of power, which is equivalent to 100 million LED light bulbs, according to the department.

The key difference between Earth and the moon is that "on Earth we have an atmosphere, so we can cool these reactors," Lal says. Many nuclear reactors are cooled by water, which in turn discharges the excess heat into the environment.

Without an atmosphere or any bodies of water, nuclear reactors on the moon need to radiate their excess heat directly into space. That means they need large radiators that can help them dissipate the heat load. The reactors' design also requires them to operate at higher temperatures than on Earth.

Transportation Secretary and acting NASA Administrator Sean Duffy speaks during a news conference on new drone regulations and plans to use nuclear power on the moon on Tuesday.

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Julia Demaree Nikhinson

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What are the risks and dangers?

Moonquakes and meteorite strikes could damage a reactor, but the chances are slim. Moreover, even if something did happen on the surface, "there's no wind, there's no water that would move the radioactivity around," says Patrick McClure, the chief operating officer of SpaceNukes, a company developing space-based nuclear reactors. That's in contrast to Earth, where radioactive fallout can be spread over long distances by wind and rain.

Kathryn Huff, professor of nuclear, plasma, and radiological engineering at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, said a nuclear reactor being on the moon is not the primary safety issue — the main concern is getting the reactor up there and what happens once it reaches the end of its lifespan. It is unclear how long the reactor could operate, but most in the U.S. can last at least 80 years, according to the Department of Energy.

"It cannot blow up the moon," said Huff, who was also assistant secretary for Nuclear Energy at the Department of Energy under the Biden administration. "If you're considering bringing that reactor off the moon someday, making sure that its reentry into the Earth's atmosphere is flawless will be pretty important because I think no one really wants to see a repeat of the Kosmos 954 [incident]."

Kosmos 954, a nuclear-powered satellite by Russia, malfunctioned in January 1978 while reentering Earth's atmosphere and exploded over Canada, spreading radioactive debris across the country.

McClure says that there are safety measures in place to ensure uranium fuel used in any lunar reactor would not be radioactive when it is launched. Moreover, he says, the reactor would not be activated until it reached what he described as a "nuclear safe orbit" of at least 621 miles above Earth.

Is this the right time?

The news that NASA will be developing reactors for the moon comes at a particularly challenging time for the agency.

At least 20% of NASA's workforce has opted to leave the agency through the Trump administration's deferred resignation program, and the administration has also proposed decreasing NASA's budget. A fiscal year 2026 budget request released in May would reduce funding for the agency by about 24%, from nearly $25 billion to nearly $19 billion — though the House and Senate are discussing recommendations that would keep funding for the agency around the current budget.

However, the agency recently got a boost, reversing earlier proposals to retire some NASA programs, including funding toward upcoming moon missions. Trump's One Big Beautiful Bill Act allocates nearly $10 billion in additional funding for NASA through 2032, including backing for Mars missions and plans to return to the moon.

The reactor project could consume a lot of that money. Lal and Myers estimated in a recent report that developing such a reactor would cost around $3 billion over five years.

In his directive, Duffy said that if China or Russia were to reach the moon first, either country could "potentially declare a keep-out zone which would significantly inhibit" the U.S. from establishing presence if it's not there first.

But the urgency to return to the moon with a nuclear reactor in a five-year timeline will be extremely difficult to meet, said Huff. She also suggests there should be a multiyear authorization process that includes input from several agencies, including NASA and the Energy Department, on nuclear safeguards before and after launch.

The U.S. should also prioritize the science of the mission and not focus on being first, Huff also said.

"You have to center a lot of this work, especially in space, in the scientific and technological community rather than in a community of the military and defense," she said. "I do hope to see that NASA's leadership in this space will imbue the project with a sense of international collaboration with our friends and allies."
Copyright 2025 NPR

Raul Malo, the leader of the country band The Mavericks and one of the most recognizable voices in roots music, died Monday night, according to a representative of the band. The guitarist and singer had been battling cancer.

He was hospitalized last week, forcing him to miss tribute shows staged in his honor at the Ryman Auditorium over the weekend. He was 60 years old.

"No one embodied life and love, joy and passion, family, friends, music and adventure the way our beloved Raul did," read a statement released by his family.

Malo's group, The Mavericks, mourned the loss of their leader in a social post.

"Anyone with the pleasure of being in Raul's orbit knew that he was a force of human nature, with an infectious energy," the statement read. "Over a career of more than three decades entertaining millions around the globe, his towering creative contributions and unrivaled, generational talent created the kind of multicultural American music reaching far beyond America itself."

Over a career that lasted four decades, The Mavericks lived up to the band's name, challenging expectations and following a roadmap crafted by Malo's expansive musical upbringing as the son of Cuban immigrants in Miami.

"I grew up in a very musical household. There was all kinds of music around always," he told WHYY's Fresh Air in 1995. "We listened to everything from Hank Williams to Celia Cruz to Sam Cooke to Bobby Darin. It didn't matter."

In 1992, Malo told NPR that his widespread influences weren't always understood or appreciated in his South Florida hometown, but he said that his struggle to fit in taught him to trust his instincts. Malo had become the guitarist and lead singer for The Mavericks in 1989, alongside co-founders Robert Reynolds and Paul Deakin, and his roaring, sentimental voice defined the band's sound and remained its constant as the group's catalog moved from slow, tender ballads to full-throttle rock songs. In 1995, the band released its biggest hit with "All You Ever Do Is Bring Me Down," a swinging country song featuring an assist from Tex-Mex accordion legend Flaco Jimenez.

As the band grew in members and devoted listeners, The Mavericks continued to push the boundaries of American music, weaving a richly layered tapestry of textures and stories. With more than a dozen studio albums, The Mavericks collected praise and recognition from the Academy of Country Music, the Country Music Association and the Recording Academy. Although they took a hiatus for several years, Malo never stopped making music — and returned to his bandmates with renewed inspiration.

Following its 30th anniversary, the group released its first full-length Spanish album in 2020, aptly titled En Español. The record reimagined Latin standards and folklore-tinged popular tunes; it also made an implicit political statement about Latin music's contributions to American culture.

"In our own little way, if we could get somebody that perhaps is on the fence on issues and hears us singing in Spanish and perhaps reminds them of the beautiful cultures that make up what this country is trying to be and what it should be, so be it," Malo told NPR at the time. "Yeah, I'm OK with that."

The following year, the Americana Music Association recognized The Mavericks with the Trailblazer Award. In 2024, the band released its last studio album, Moon & Stars. The release coincided with news of Malo's cancer diagnosis, which he discussed openly with NPR's Ayesha Rascoe.

Before being hospitalized last week, Malo had been scheduled to perform with The Mavericks at a pair of tribute concerts held this past weekend at the legendary Ryman Auditorium in Nashville. Over 30 artists, including Patty Griffin, Jim Lauderdale and Steve Earle, still gathered to pay tribute to Malo, with some of the proceeds of the night going to the cancer prevention organization Stand Up To Cancer.

According to his spokesperson, though Malo was too ill to attend, the concert was streamed to his hospital room Friday night.

Copyright 2025 NPR

The Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department has mostly blocked efforts to investigate misconduct within its ranks, according to the county inspector general, who announced his retirement Tuesday after 12 years on the job.

In an open letter, Max Huntsman cited examples of how the county has thwarted his efforts to watchdog the department, which in the past has been plagued with accusations that deputies use excessive force and lie on the job.

Huntsman said one example is former Sheriff Alex Villanueva’s misuse of criminal enforcement powers to discredit critics, such as opening an investigation into former County Supervisor Sheila Kuehl.

Villanueva was sheriff from 2018 to 2022.

“My requests for investigation were rejected,” Huntsman’s letter reads. “Even after receiving an official subpoena, the Sheriff’s Department has failed to turn over records regarding the improper surveillance.”

He added: “Sometimes members of the public wonder if frightening new surveillance techniques will be used for improper purposes under the guise of criminal investigation. Sadly, the answer is yes.”

Before becoming inspector general in 2013, Huntsman, 60, was a deputy district attorney who specialized in public corruption. He told LAist on Tuesday that the inspector general job wasn’t something he wanted initially.

“I didn’t want to go work for politicians,” he said. “But the need to provide some kind of independent reporting and analysis was significant.”

The Sheriff’s Department issued a statement saying it valued the Office of the Inspector General and all county oversight bodies and that it wished Huntsman and his family well in his retirement.

The department said it “continues to make great strides in advancing the department in a transparent manner.”

LAist also reached out to the county CEO and county counsel for comment, but they declined.

After George Floyd

In the letter, Huntsman says the state of California has come a long way in strengthening the power of local law enforcement oversight bodies, in part because of the 2020 murder of George Floyd by police in Minneapolis.

After widespread protests — and lobbying by Huntsman — the state provided authority to inspectors general to enforce subpoenas requiring law enforcement agencies to hand over documents and authorized external investigation of police misconduct, including deputy gang conduct.

The Sheriff’s Department — backed by county lawyers — has resisted.

“Los Angeles County may not follow those laws, but it will not be able to avoid them forever,” Huntsman wrote. “The county refuses to require the photographing of suspected gang tattoos in secretive groups that the undersheriff has identified as violating state law.”

“Just a few weeks ago, we requested some information regarding an investigation, and a pair of commanders refused to give it to us,” Huntsman said in an interview with LAist.

Origin of the office 

The Inspector General’s Office was created by the county Board of Supervisors in 2013 in response to a scandal that included former Sheriff Lee Baca covering up the abuses of jail inmates.

Baca went to federal prison.

Since then, the office has issued dozens of reports with recommendations for improving living conditions inside jails that some have described as “filthy,” stopping abuses of juveniles inside juvenile halls and providing shower privacy for inmates as part of the requirements under the Prison Rape Elimination Act.

“All of these abuses were reported by the Office of Inspector General and recommendations were ignored,” Huntsman wrote. Often, it took court orders to enact change.

“When we first blew the whistle on the torturous chaining of mentally ill prisoners to benches for 36 hours at a time, it was only a court order that ended the practice,” he wrote. “Time and time again, this pattern repeated itself.”

Huntsman wrote the county has permitted the Sheriff’s Department to block oversight and defunded the Office of Inspector General by removing a third of its staff.

“It's not surprising the county has driven out two successive chairs of the Sheriff Civilian Oversight Commission,” he wrote.

“Government always claims to value transparency and accountability, but shooting the messenger is still the most common response to criticism,” Huntsman wrote.

Despite setbacks, Huntsman values work 

Huntsman told LAist on Tuesday that he was proud of his career as a public servant.

“I’ve really enjoyed the work and I’m sad to have it end,” he said.

It’s a sentiment he echoed in his letter, adding that despite the setbacks and roadblocks, he was proud of the people with whom he shared the office.

“It has been my honor to work with a talented, brave and tireless group of public servants to ensure that the public knows what its government is doing,” he wrote.

He noted the inspector general’s reports are fact-checked by the office and public.

“When government abuses occur, they are sometimes kept secret, but that is no longer the case for much of what is happening in Los Angeles County,” Huntsman wrote. “What you do about it is up to you.,”

Huntsman’s last day is Friday.

Topline:

The backstory: Last month, the council's Transportation Committee voted to bring a proposal forward to implement a policy change that allows the city to impound and immediately destroy abandoned or inoperable RVs worth less than $4,000. The change is inspired by new state law AB 630, which was created to prevent previously impounded RVs from ending back up on the street.

The motion, authored by Councilmember Traci Park, reports that abandoned RVs pose as public and safety hazards.

What's next: Councilmember Nithya Raman requested that an implementation plan be presented to the council's public safety and housing and homelessness committees.

Go deeper: L.A. pushes policy to make it easier to remove RVs from city streets.