7 'House of Cards' Characters Who Are Dead AF Thanks to the Underwoods

Image via Complex Original

Russo, a member of the U.S. House of Representatives and almost-Governor of Pennsylvania, was not exactly a likeable character. Guy had a pretty serious drinking problem (and frequently relapsed), generally valued his career over his family, and did some pretty shady shit. But who among us is without sin, amirite? Russo definitely had some demons he could have ironed out in rehab and long-term therapy, but he certainly didn’t deserve that death-by-carbon monoxide. The very reason Russo flew off the handle and effectively smeared his own campaign for governor was a direct calculation by Underwood, as was his subsequent “suicide” (read: Frank Underwood killed that man dead).

After Frank sent a hired vixen (hi, Rachel Posner) his way to booze and seduce him, Underwood carefully orchestrated his public branding and ensuing fall from grace. Feigning the concerned colleague, he crooned Russo into a post-meltdown deep sleep in the passenger seat of his own goddamn vehicle, turned on the ignition, and dipped like the snake he is as the garage door slowly closed behind him. Russo suffocated in his sleep. Bonus: Frank left Russo’s children fatherless.

Zoe Barnes (Kate Mara) was low-key one of this show’s most intriguing characters. Like any great Washington journalist, she managed to build herself a rolodex of sources close to DC’s big wigs using—well...methods. With her insider status, she planned to launch the biggest article of her career: an investigation into the possible murder of Peter Russo. However, the issue that arises when you try to hold power over the powerful is that, ultimately, you’re gonna get some push-back (quite literally in Barnes’ case). Hot on the trail of Russo’s untimely death and the Underwoods’ involvement, Zoe found herself at odds with one of the capital’s most diabolical figures.

Having agreed to meet Frank at a train station to smooth things over—sidebar: what part of this sounded like a good idea, dude?—Underwood, in disguise, requested that all of his information and correspondence be wiped from Barnes’ phone. She complied. He then pushed her in front of an oncoming train to dispose of any loose ends tying him to Russo’s murder. This is the real reason you’re told never to stand near the train tracks, lest you meet your maker at the hands of some shady politician you’ve been sleeping with on the low (which you should also never do).

There are two ways to approach the scene in “Chapter 1” of the first season wherein Frank Underwood strangles a dog. If you’re a low-key sociopath, then crushing an animal’s windpipe is a perfectly reasonable approach to alleviating an animal’s suffering after a hit-and-run. It was Frank who ultimately determined that he was “not gonna make it,” and perhaps as his monologue would have us believe, he was actually doing the Whartons’ dog a service. But like, Underwood is no fucking veterinarian and there was something sinister in his whisperings to us, the audience, before it happened. “There are two kinds of pain—the sort of pain that makes you strong; or useless pain, the sort of pain that’s only suffering,” he said. “I have no patience for useless things.” That pretty much set the bar for the rest of the series. Like bro, do you even empathize?

Michael Corrigan, some fans will remember, was a gay activist imprisoned by Russian authorities for protesting for LGBT civil liberties in Moscow. After being flown to Russia to negotiate for Corrigan’s release, Claire Underwood was tasked with persuading Corrigan—who by that point had suffered some significant and understandable trauma—to read a pre-penned speech apologizing to Viktor Petrov (the series’ Putin) and atoning for his gay sins. Corrigan refused because principles. Claire laid down to give him a few moments to think about it. By the time she woke, he’d hung himself with her neckscarf. While Claire didn’t technically kill Corrigan, she definitely had a hand in facilitating his emotional tipping point, or his protestation—either way, he’s dead.

To date, this has been the saddest, most gut-wrenching murder of them all. While not an actual person (or dog), Freddy’s BBQ Joint was just as much a character on the show as any of its sentient counterparts. It was a frequent place of refuge for Frank, who believed he and the joint’s owner Freddy Hayes were friends—confidants, even. That is quite possibly the worst spot to be in if you’re a man trying to keep a low profile (i.e. Freddy), and that’s where things get shaky.

During season two, Freddy was offered a franchise for his recipes. He agreed and signed a contract to open restaurants across the United States in partnership with a chain. After leaked details about Frank’s frequent visits to Freddy’s hole-in-the-wall treasure attracted unwanted media attention (and after his son on parole pointed a gun at some nosey af journos), the press unearthed some family history that didn’t play well with his new corporate overlord. Ultimately, he was left with nothing at all—without his business, and a source of income—and ended up reliant on Frank’s shoddy placement program for a job as a dishwasher. This was all, he knew, Frank’s fault.

On some guilty white savior shit, Frank offered him a position in the White House kitchen, which he promptly refused. In a state of desperation, Freddy was forced to take a job as a groundskeeper, effectively becoming an employee of the Underwoods in one of the saddest plot twists of the series.

As if this woman hadn’t suffered enough trauma before the Underwoods involved themselves in her affairs, they also killed her dead to boot—well, had her killed. Posner got involved with Doug Stamper, Frank’s jack-of-all-trades director and eventual hired hit man. Covering his own tracks for a DUI while she was in the car with him, Posner was then paid to have sex with him (peak trash man here). Stamper developed a Kanye-for-Amber obsession with Posner, helping her out in exchange for her services in seducing and destroying the career of Russo (where this whole convoluted mess comes full-circle). We already know how Russo met his demise, but when Frank found out that Rachel could be a liability to his career, he asked Stamper to take her out.

But he couldn’t.

Rather than follow orders, the show was able to squeeze out a couple more plot-thickening episodes as Stamper placed her in the middle of fucking nowhere so she could keep a low profile (as well as her life). This worked for about a minute, until Posner found friendship and eventual love with another woman. Things got a little nuts after Stamper’s failed attempt at murdering her. When she was finally located again some episodes later, Stamper took another metaphorical stab at killing her, eventually settling on running her over with a van after briefly leading her believe that she had been spared. Love is dead for all except the Underw—jk, love is dead for them too.

Maybe this was inevitable, but what do Frank and Claire Underwood have if not each other? Spoiler alert: a hot stack of nothing. In the season finale of season three, we watched Claire bounce the fuck out of their West Wing fortress and leave Frank’s sorry ass to go about whatever murderous presidential garbage he’d involved himself with.

Could this be the end of the Underwoods as we’ve so disdainfully come to know them? Will Claire finally hit up her side-piece photographer or re-launch a firm for philanthropy? Will trash man Frank Underwood win her back with his power, charisma, and the prospect of a shared cigarette at a lone windowsill of the White House?

We know that she’s very much present in the fourth season, but her capacity in Frank’s orbit is TBD. Whether they’re able to settle their grievances and work their shit out is yet to be seen, but we’re looking forward to finding out if this HoC death can be resurrected.