A Former Hamas Hostage’s Plea to Trump and Netanyahu

Some mornings, the realization of my freedom hasn’t sunk in yet.

Then, the memories flood back: the oppressive silence, the perpetual darkness, the damp concrete, and the two young men, still captive in the depths beside me.

Their names are  and .

For eight and a half months,  and I were confined to a cramped Hamas tunnel, barely 40 ft. long and less than 3 ft. wide. We endured soaked mattresses, a shared daily pita, and whispered stories of home to maintain our sanity.

We began as strangers, but in that darkness, we forged a brotherhood.

It’s been over 100 days since President Trump’s return to the White House and the that secured my release, along with Omer’s and many others. Though my time above ground hasn’t been much longer, each breath of fresh air, each moment in the sun, each quiet instance with my family feels profoundly precious. My perception of time has changed; I cherish it more, acutely aware of its fleeting nature and the agonizing reality faced by those still held captive.

I endured 505 days as a hostage, buried deep underground. A surveillance camera constantly monitored us. A bomb, rigged to detonate if Israeli forces approached, loomed above. We were warned of being blown up if rescue was attempted. We faced threats, degradation, and, at times, torture—treated not as humans, but as objects to be controlled and broken.

I am not a soldier. I was abducted from my in-laws’ home in Kibbutz Be’eri on Oct. 7, while with my wife and children. Unable to breach the safe room door, terrorists entered through the window, dragged me out, forced me into a trunk, and paraded me through Gaza.

Before our separation, I looked into my nine-year-old son’s frightened eyes and made the agonizing decision to tell him the truth – that I didn’t know if we were going to die. I couldn’t offer false hope in what might have been our final moments.

For 50 excruciating days, I was uncertain of my family’s survival. It was a rare flicker of hope when I learned in November they were about to be released.

Evyatar and Guy, both 22, were seized from the Nova music festival, their friends massacred around them. When we met in captivity, they were in dire condition—starved, handcuffed, terrified. For weeks, they had been given almost no food. Their hands were tied behind their backs, their ankles bound, their heads covered with plastic bags. Yet, somehow, their spirits remained unbroken. During those eight and a half months in the tunnel, they persevered.

Our captors stripped us of our humanity, torturing us for their amusement. They would sometimes ignite pieces of paper, consuming the scarce oxygen in the tunnel, causing us to choke and lie on the floor to avoid suffocation.

We created daily rituals to maintain our sense of self. In a place designed to break us, we supported each other, becoming a unit, a family.

Upon emerging from that tunnel in February, I vowed to be the voice for those silenced.

President Trump, I was freed in a deal facilitated by your administration. Your prioritization of the hostages was instrumental in bringing many of us home. I stand here today because this issue was addressed with the urgency it demanded.

But our mission is not complete. Fifty-nine hostages remain in Hamas captivity, and each passing day diminishes their chances of survival.

Hamas’s release of hostages was not out of kindness, but a response to pressure—pressure generated by international attention and unwavering advocacy. I urge you to renew that pressure to secure the release of every hostage, living or deceased.

However, a to escalate military action in Gaza is not the solution. Each step deeper into war pushes Evyatar and Guy further away—and diminishes the hope of bringing them home alive. We must not allow military considerations to overshadow our moral imperative.

Evyatar and Guy are not mere statistics. They are sons, friends, music enthusiasts—gentle, humorous, and full of life. They deserve to bask in the sun again; they deserve a future.

I have experienced the abyss of darkness, the weight of airless days, hunger, and silence. But I also know the profound joy of breathing freely again.

President Trump, Prime Minister Netanyahu, you granted me that opportunity.

Please—bring them home, too. Let them breathe again.

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