Christian Wilkins Cut by Raiders After Rehab Rift, HR Complaint
From $110M cornerstone to sudden release, the defensive tackle’s Las Vegas saga ends in controversy

Las Vegas, July 29 EST: It was supposed to be the dawn of a defensive era. Christian Wilkins, the swaggering, gap-busting lineman fresh off five forceful years with the Miami Dolphins, was brought to Las Vegas not just for sacks and stops but for soul. The Raiders gave him $110 million and the keys to the locker room.
Now, four months later, they’ve shown him the door.
A Breakup That Came With a Whisper, Not a Bang
There’s no way to sugarcoat it: this was messy. Wilkins was signed to dominate he was supposed to be the guy who finally anchored a Raiders front that has been soft up the middle since the Richard Seymour days. But the cracks came early, and not on the field on the operating table.
A Jones fracture in his left foot last fall cut his 2024 season short. After surgery, his rehab became a puzzle no one could solve. The team wanted regimented, militant recovery. Wilkins? According to insiders, he did things his way. Some saw independence; others, indifference. Either way, it didn’t sit right with the folks upstairs.
So on June 4, before he even strapped on a helmet for training camp, the Raiders voided $35.2 million of his guarantees. That’s not just a cold move it’s a warning shot. But Wilkins stayed. The hope, if there was one, was that both sides could still find common ground.
Then came the forehead kiss.
The Kiss That Killed a Career in Silver and Black
In a team meeting in late July tense, high-stakes, players fighting for snaps and respect Wilkins reportedly leaned in and kissed a teammate on the forehead. Playful? Maybe. Personal? Definitely. But it didn’t land. The teammate filed an HR complaint, and just like that, the locker room turned cold.
Now let’s be clear: locker rooms are emotional spaces. Hugs, tears, shoves, weird rituals you see it all. But when something crosses a line for a teammate, the unwritten rules say you don’t shrug it off. The Raiders didn’t.
By July 28, Wilkins was released with the coldest designation the league offers: “terminated vested veteran.” That means no money, no second chance, no soft landing.
The Raiders won’t say it was just the kiss. They’re calling it “a combination of factors.” But make no mistake that moment, awkward and odd as it sounds, was the breaking point.
Pete Carroll Made the Call But Did He Fumble It?
Head coach Pete Carroll, now 73 and still chewing through life with gum-snapping optimism, took the mic after the release. His tone? Clinical.
“There wasn’t a clear path forward,” he said.
Translation: they gave up. Maybe not on Wilkins the player but definitely on Wilkins the project.
Look, Carroll didn’t build this culture from scratch. He inherited a roster built on contradictions. Flash without grit. Swagger without discipline. Wilkins could’ve been the bridge. Instead, he became a headline.
A $110 Million Wreck
This wasn’t just a busted signing it’s a gut punch. The Raiders aren’t just out $110 million (or most of it, pending grievance). They’re out the leadership, the trench presence, the spark Wilkins was supposed to bring. And unless Malcolm Koonce or Byron Young suddenly turns into Aaron Donald, the middle of that defense is a wide-open lane for AFC West running backs.
You think Austin Ekeler and Javonte Williams aren’t licking their chops?
And what’s worse, Wilkins didn’t fail on the field. He never even got there. No snaps, no tape, no signature moment in silver and black. Just press releases, whispers, and a union grievance that could drag into 2027.
The NFLPA Steps In and the Fight Isn’t Over
The NFL Players Association filed its official grievance hours after the release. They’re arguing that the Raiders yanked guaranteed money for conduct that doesn’t rise to the level of “detrimental.”
Here’s where it gets murky: does a forehead kiss, however strange, void $35 million? If that’s the bar, half the league better start watching film in separate rooms.
Legal experts say this could end up in arbitration with depositions, HR documents, and testimony. The kind of mess no franchise wants aired out especially not a team trying to sell a new identity in a city built on image.
A Fallout Still Taking Shape
Wilkins? He’s out. But he’s not out of football. He’s 29, built like a fire hydrant, and if his foot holds up, someone will bite. Maybe not now. Maybe not until October. But this league has a short memory and a long hunger for linemen who can get push.
The Raiders? They walk away lighter in the wallet and heavier with questions. Did they rush the deal? Did they lose the locker room? Did they make it personal when they should’ve made it professional?
Fans are left wondering what could’ve been. Not just in sacks and TFLs but in identity. Wilkins had the heart for Vegas. The charisma. The spark. But maybe not the fit.
And now, Raider Nation rolls into 2025 without the man who was supposed to be the face of the defense left only with echoes of what was meant to be, and headlines about a kiss that shouldn’t have mattered, but somehow did.
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A former college-level cricketer and lifelong sports enthusiast, Arun Upadhayay brings the heart of an athlete to the sharp eye of a journalist. With firsthand experience in competitive sports and a deep understanding of team dynamics, Arun covers everything from grassroots tournaments to high-stakes international showdowns. His reporting blends field-level grit with analytical precision, making him a trusted voice for sports fans across New Jersey and beyond.






