In the beginning, when I first tried to bring this story to the attention of media figures, I couldn't understand why they wouldn't jump on it, publish it, and promote it widely. You'd think that the way media platforms and journalists choose stories has something to do with how consequential they are. You'd think that a true story about a single doctor saving an entire country would rise to the top over less remarkable events. Well, if you thought that, you'd be wrong. Apparently, that's not how information sharing works.

At the time, I hadn't yet realized how agenda driven the news really was. The unfortunate reality is that nobody with a large platform is going to share information unless there's something in it for them. And they certainly won't share it if there's even a remote chance it could conflict with, or inconvenience, someone they might benefit from later on.

That being said, there are a few rare individuals, real big voices, who aren't like that. You might be surprised who I'm referring to. If I get their permission, I'd like to tell you about them in the future.

Around that same time, I opened a Twitter account in my brother's name to help get the word out about his protocol. There was no grand strategy behind it. I just wanted a way to share the research my brother had uncovered and the protocol he was recommending directly, without it being filtered, censored, blocked, or banned.

In the first few days, there was a lot of encouraging engagement. Likes, comments, and shares were coming in faster than I could realistically keep track of, and I didn't think too much of it at the time.

Then I got a phone call from a yeshiva buddy. It was like hearing from an old college friend out of the blue. He told me that a man he had spoken to in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, was in touch with the President of Chile, and that the president wanted to reach out to my brother about the protocol.

I got the man's number and called him right away. On the other end of the line was an older Hasidic gentleman, originally from Chile, now living in Crown Heights, with a thick Spanish accent.

It became clear very quickly that he wasn't in touch with the President of Chile at all. Instead, he told me that he had been contacted by a woman from Panama, supposedly on behalf of the President of Ecuador. At that point, I remember realizing that clarity wasn't getting closer. It was moving farther away. I also remember thinking that my yeshiva buddy might have been drunk when he passed this information along.

To make a long story longer, I decided to call the Panamanian woman directly. I assumed she would be some sort of official intermediary. She wasn't. She turned out to be a Jewish woman from Panama who didn't work for or personally know the President of Ecuador, or any president for that matter.

She explained that she had been following my brother's Twitter account closely and that she had noticed a comment on one of my posts from someone named Leo.

She told me that Leo was the Director of the Agencia de Regulación Sanitaria de Honduras, essentially their version of the FDA, and that he was part of President Juan Orlando Hernández's administration in Honduras.

This wasn't idle curiosity or another dead end. This had moved beyond social media chatter and informal conversations. There was real intent behind the outreach.

What followed would involve governments, institutions, and decisions that were far beyond anything I had imagined when I opened that Twitter account.

Once the connection to Honduras became clear, the pace of everything changed.

What had started as a missed comment on Twitter quickly turned into serious conversations with officials responsible for public health decisions affecting millions of people. While I wasn't personally present for every discussion, one thing was unmistakable: this had reached the highest levels of government in Honduras, and it was being taken seriously.

What followed was decisive.

President Juan Orlando Hernández arranged for my brother to train physicians across Honduras in the use of his COVID treatment protocol. The training was conducted remotely and included more than one thousand Honduran doctors. I was present for those sessions, watching as my brother explained, step by step, how the protocol worked and how it could be implemented immediately.

There was no dismissiveness. No ideological posturing. The focus was entirely on outcomes and saving lives.

As the months went on, the data began to tell a clear story. Honduras, a country of more than eleven million people, went on to record one of the best COVID survival rates in the world. In the middle of global chaos, fear, and uncertainty, they had chosen a path that prioritized early treatment and decisive action.

From where I stood, it felt like watching something quietly extraordinary unfold.

This wasn't theory. It wasn't speculation. It was real-world application, on a national scale, with measurable results.

It has now been several years since those events, and even longer since my brother left this world. With time and distance, I've come to feel a responsibility to record what I witnessed — not to argue, not to persuade, but simply to tell the story as it happened.

This is why I'm writing these essays.

Some stories are too important to leave fragmented, misunderstood, or forgotten. And this one — the story of how a single doctor's work helped change the course of an entire country — deserves to be remembered.

Editor's note: This post combines Volumes 2 and 3 of Frank Zelenko's serialized newsletter.