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Four weeks into President Trump’s second term in office, Hamas released me from captivity as part of a negotiation that many had deemed impossible — championed by a president who had made that mission one of his earliest priorities.
Soon after, when I traveled to the United States to meet President Trump privately at his invitation, I was amazed to find the event wasn’t just a ceremonial photo opportunity.
The president created moments of real connection in that conversation — moments that gave me a renewed sense of hope that Israel’s nightmare can end.
What struck me most about President Trump during our meeting in the Oval Office was his genuine empathy. He didn’t just listen to my story; he felt it.
“We will bring them all home,” he promised, gripping my hand firmly.
It was a commitment spoken with the conviction of someone who sees each hostage as a precious life — a world unto itself. I could see that he meant it.
A few weeks later, I met the president once again, joining him on stage at the National Republican Congressional Committee dinner. There he gave me the opportunity to speak directly to America.
“I have been in hell for 498 days,” I said. And the room went silent.
So many leaders would shy away from giving raw grief such a public stage.
But President Trump understands something critical: The voices of Hamas hostages like me desperately need to be heard. These stories must be told.
Trump’s effort to secure the release of hostages like myself broke through barriers that once seemed unbreakable.
Through determined diplomacy, his administration brought 38 people home — real lives, real families reunited.
And yet 59 hostages still wait in darkness — some alive, enduring daily abuse, starvation and psychological torment; others already murdered, their bodies still held, denied even the dignity of a proper burial.
One of them holds a piece of my heart with him in Gaza: my younger brother Eitan.
He’s been there for over 550 days — trapped in the same nightmare I was released from.
Every moment of my newfound liberty is shadowed by the knowledge that he faces yet another day of torment.
Truly, this is hell.
498 days in hell
For 498 days, I was held underground — no sunlight, no air, barely any food or water.
We were packed into suffocating spaces, treated like animals, stripped of every basic human right. The mental torture was relentless.
The fight to survive never stopped.
Eitan Horn is my baby brother. An educator. A music lover who plays guitar. A huge sports fan. A big guy with a soft heart.
He’s the kind of person who stands up for others, who brings calm into chaos. He is kind, warm and deeply loved.
Eitan remains trapped in the Hamas tunnels that I escaped. There he suffers from a painful skin disease that causes fevers and requires ongoing treatment. Without proper medical care in captivity, his condition is worsening.
I fear he won’t survive much longer.
When the terrorists told me I was being released as part of the hostage deal, I was forced to leave Eitan behind. I didn’t get a choice. I didn’t get a say.
In that moment, my heart was ripped in half.
Days later, Hamas published a horrifying video of our final embrace — a moment I’ll never be able to erase.
You can see the pain on our faces. You can hear Eitan’s voice breaking as he pleads, “Please don’t separate families. Don’t destroy our lives.”
That was the last time I saw him. I had to walk away while he stayed behind.
It is ongoing torture to live with that. His words echo in my head every day. That moment replays every night.
I’m his older brother — I was supposed to protect him. But I came home, and he did not.
Since my return, I’ve felt the unbearable weight of survival. My family is half whole. A part of me is still there with Eitan. I cannot be truly free while he remains in hell.
Bring my brother back
Just as President Trump reaches his 100-day milestone, Israel enters a sacred week — Memorial Day, followed immediately by Independence Day.
This sequence reflects our national truth. Our independence was born of sacrifice.
Yet how can we celebrate when 59 of our people remain captive?
So I plead, from the depths of a brother’s heart: President Trump, you brought me home — please bring my brother back.
You have already saved lives. You have already reunited families.
Now use your voice, your influence, your determination to rescue every hostage. Every last one.
Because in those tunnels are not just names and numbers. They are children, siblings, parents, spouses.
They are the living — and the dead — who must come home.
Imagine the agony of feeling forgotten, wondering if the world has moved on — if your name still matters. Imagine not knowing if you’ll survive another day.
That is where my brother is. That is where 59 families are still living.
To Eitan: Hold on, little brother. President Trump, and the whole world, knows your name now. And I am fighting for you with every breath I have.
As we honor what President Trump has achieved in his first 100 days, let us ensure the next 100 days are just as meaningful — by continuing the work of bringing every single hostage home.
Only then can we speak of freedom. Only then can Israel truly celebrate its independence.
Until that day comes, my country and I are only partly free.
Iair Horn survived 498 days as a hostage of Hamas in Gaza. His brother, Eitan, Horn remains captive there.
English (US)