Name of Victim: Jerome E. Kasper
Age of Victim: 77
Sex of Victim: Male
State: IL
Name of Hospital(s) victim was admitted to (List All that apply): AMITA Resurrection Medical Center
Did the victim survive? No
Date of Death: 02/20/2022
Contact Name: Becky Kasper
Relationship to Victim: daughter
Was the victim a military Veteran? Yes
What Branch of the Armed Forces Did They Serve? US ARMY
Was the victim considered special needs, or did they have any kind of disability? No
Was the victim admitted to the hospital? Yes
County Hospital is located in: Chicago, IL
Date Admitted: 12/29/2021
Was the victim isolated at any time during hospitalization? Yes
Does the victim or family feel they were treated differently by hospital staff as a result of disclosing their vaccination status? Yes
Was the victim or family pressured to sign a Do Not Resuscitate? Yes
Was the victim physically restrained? Yes
Was the victim deprived of food and water while in the hospital? Yes
Was victim placed on a ventilator? Yes
Has this incident been reported to any agency such as VAERS, HHS, JACHO, Medical Board or others? No
Would you be interested in participating in podcasts or other media? Yes
They Took Down Superman: The Betrayal and Death of Jerome E. Kasper
Jerome E. Kasper was many things to many people. He was a proud U.S. Army veteran. A devoted father. A man of integrity and strength whose presence filled a room and whose character anchored a family. To his daughter Becky, and to those who truly knew him, Jerome had another name “Superman.” Not because he was invincible, but because he showed up every day with quiet courage, moral clarity, and a deep sense of responsibility to protect those he loved.
That is what makes his death not only tragic, but profoundly unjust.
In December 2021, Jerome was admitted to AMITA Resurrection Medical Center in Chicago after becoming ill. He was unvaccinated, a fact that would follow him like a scarlet letter the moment he entered the hospital system. From the start, Becky sensed something was wrong not with her father, but with how he was being treated. The warmth, transparency, and individualized care families expect from hospitals were nowhere to be found. Instead, the doors closed, communication narrowed, and Jerome was swallowed by a system that no longer treated patients as people.
Like so many families during that time, Becky was cut off. Isolation was enforced. Advocacy was blocked. Jerome a man who had served his country was suddenly stripped of his voice, his rights, and his dignity. Becky watched helplessly as decisions were made without meaningful consent, as questions were deflected, and as her father’s condition declined under a rigid, one-size-fits-all protocol that allowed no deviation, no discussion, and no humanity.
Jerome was pressured toward a Do Not Resuscitate order, physically restrained, deprived of adequate food and water, and ultimately placed on a ventilator. Becky was told what so many families were told: this is the standard of care. But what she witnessed felt nothing like care. It felt mechanical. Cold. Predetermined.
There was no meaningful dialogue about alternatives. No openness to individualized treatment. No respect for Jerome’s life experience, his military service, or his family’s right to advocate for him. Becky’s attempts to intervene were met with stonewalling and silence. Her father, once strong, once vibrant, became another number behind closed ICU doors.
On February 20, 2022, Jerome E. Kasper died.
The official explanations did nothing to soothe the reality Becky now lives with: her father did not die simply from a virus. He died inside a system that abandoned its ethical obligations, one that prioritized compliance over compassion and protocol over people. What happened to Jerome was not an isolated incident, it followed a disturbingly familiar pattern reported by thousands of families across the country: forced isolation, lack of informed consent, pressure to withhold life-saving measures, and the systematic sidelining of loved ones who tried to intervene.
This was institutional betrayal at its most devastating.
Jerome’s death left a permanent void in Becky’s life, but it also ignited a determination to ensure that her father’s life, and the injustice of his death, would not be erased or dismissed. In a powerful act of remembrance, the community honored Jerome by naming a street after him, a public acknowledgment that his life mattered, that his service mattered, and that he will not be forgotten. The street stands as a quiet but unyielding testament to a man who gave of himself and to a family who refused to let his story disappear.
But memorials cannot substitute for accountability.
Becky carries the weight of knowing that what happened to her father was wrong. That the suffering he endured was unnecessary. That the system entrusted with his care failed him when he was most vulnerable. Her story is one of grief, yes but also of truth-telling. Of refusing to accept silence as the final chapter.
Jerome Kasper “Superman” deserved better. So did Becky. So did every family who watched a loved one deteriorate behind locked doors while being told, “There’s nothing more we can do.”
These are not just tragedies. They are egregious crimes against humanity carried out under the guise of public health and they must be stopped.
That is why Betrayal Project USA exists.
Betrayal Project USA is a victim-led organization giving families like Becky’s a platform to tell the truth about what happened inside hospitals during COVID and beyond. Our board members, volunteers, widows, widowers, and survivors are people who lived this nightmare themselves. We document these stories not to dwell in grief, but to demand reform, accountability, and justice and to ensure these atrocities are never repeated.
If you or a loved one was harmed or killed by COVID-related hospital protocols, medical coercion, or policies that stripped patients of their rights, your story matters. You are not alone.
Please document your experience at betrayalprojectusa.org.
Together, we are preserving the truth, honoring the victims, and building a community strong enough to confront and end institutional betrayal once and for all.
