STAND FOR MOORE: Doctor on Trial for Refusing to Kill Patients

Someone get this man a medal—and an acquittal.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl in Utah who dreamed of getting fake-vaccinated by a Navy-trained plastic surgeon so that she could go to softball camp and not develop Guillain-Barré Syndrome or die. Thanks to Dr. Kirk Moore, a Utah surgeon and deeply principled man, that dream became a reality.

[Cue angels singing.]

Now, Dr. Moore—along with his neighbor and office manager—faces charges of conspiring to defraud the United States and disposing of government property, all because he granted his patients’ wishes to receive saline instead of poison and handed them (admittedly bogus) proof of their “vaccination” on their way out the door.

Hero? Obviously. Criminal? Only if the new definition of “conspiracy to defraud the government” includes not injecting children (and adults) with a questionably tested spike protein serum under duress.

Let’s get one thing straight: Dr. Moore wasn’t some fly-by-night rogue with a turkey baster full of snake oil. He’s a decorated U.S. Navy Flight Surgeon, grieving widower, and single dad out there trying to keep kids safe—by injecting salt water instead of government prototypes labeled “vaccines.” If that’s fraud, every crunchy mom out there with a neti pot might want to lawyer up.

The man destroyed 2,000 vials of potentially lethal government property that nobody wanted, and for this, they want to lock him up for 35 years. Thirty-five years. That’s more than you get for actual federal crimes like, I don’t know, laundering money in Ukraine or repeatedly lying under oath to Congress.

And what specifically did Dr. Moore do? He upheld his Hippocratic Oath to do no harm. He did not mislead his patients; he gave them what they asked for. When thousands of them came to him and said, “Please, doc, help me not die from myocarditis or lose the job I need to feed my family,” he didn’t hesitate. Instead of replying, “Sorry, federal orders,” or even, “Relax, they’re safe and effective,” he rolled up his sleeves (and theirs) and offered the radical, dangerous alternative of... bodily autonomy.

Court documents call his actions “destruction of government property” and a “scheme to defraud the United States.” His patients call him a savior. Dr. Moore insists he took no money for his services; the press alleges that he charged $50 per visit or a “donation to a specified charitable organization” for his time. (And even if he did… fifty bucks for an office visit? I just shelled out $500 for twenty minutes with a new concierge doc—my first “wellness visit” in five years. Those utility bills don’t pay themselves, you know.)

Not Dr. Moore but still funny.

Here’s what I do know: Dr. Moore didn’t knowingly administer toxins to his patients. He didn’t hand out T-shirts that said “Ask Me Why I’m Still Alive.” The man risked his license and his livelihood because he believed in a thing called choice. Remember that? It’s that outdated concept from pre-2020 when consenting adults got to decide what went into their own bodies without Homeland Security, the FBI, and Walter from HR banging on their front door like a DEA raid on a lemonade stand.

Now he’s standing trial, as the media paints him some sort of criminal mastermind. (We’re talking about a plastic surgeon from Utah with some syringes of salt water, folks. Not exactly Kaiser Söze.) They act like he was peddling half-price black-market Ozempic behind a Denny’s when what he was doing was calming terrified parents, helping patients get life-saving organ transplants, and maybe giving Karen’s kid a harmless placebo so he could play football.

Author’s sad note: It was only recently that I could search Google—or Yandex or Brave—for relevant funny memes to decorate my posts and I’d have scores to choose from. Not anymore. It seems as if no matter what combination of terms I use, every search engine is captured to the extent that even humor is being scrubbed. It’s tragic, actually.

Dr. Moore’s trial starts today. And because our judicial system is nearly as broken as our medical one, a judge has ordered the jury and opposing counsel not to mention vaccines, COVID, or “medical misinformation…” because these terms might “poison the jury.” Nope, this isn’t about a man trying to protect people from mandated poison; it’s simply a “conspiracy to defraud the United States,” as if Dr. Moore stole Pentagon secrets instead of flipping vials of Pfizer into the trash like expired kefir.

How do you defend yourself against that?

JUDGE: Did you conspire to defraud the United States?
MOORE: Well, technically, yes, but—
JUDGE: Case dismissed.

Next, we’ll put a guy on trial for arson but tell the legal teams they’re not allowed to mention the word fire.

The prosecution’s got the FBI. Homeland Security. HHS. Probably the CDC, the NSA, and someone’s bitter ex from the IRS. And what does Dr. Moore have? A bottle of saline, a conscience, and a nation full of people who were told, “screw your freedom.”

And here’s the kicker: his patients aren’t even mad. Not one has testified against him. Not one has demanded a refund or filed a complaint. You know why? Because unlike every doctor who said, “No jab, no job,” Dr. Moore actually has a soul. He said, “I see you. I feel you. You want an off-ramp from this madness? Here’s a Band-Aid and some peace of mind.”

Charges against Dr. Moore were filed in 2023 by the DOJ under Biden—and have not been dropped by Trump’s AG Bondi. Back in April, Bobby Kennedy gave him the digital thumbs-up, saying he deserves a medal. That statement coming from the Secretary of Health and Human Services is like getting a fist bump from the ref while you’re still in the ring... but in lead-up to his pending trial, RFK. Jr has been painfully (criminally?) silent.

Dr. Moore did what few doctors did during the pandemic: he put strangers first. Maybe it’s time we return the favor.

As legal proceedings kick off off today at the Salt Lake City Federal Courthouse, the online support game is strong. @DiedSuddenly published a documentary with Dr. Moore titled Brave Doctor Faces 35 Years in Prison for Not Killing His Patients During the Pandemic, on X. They’re sending speakers, court reporters, and probably a guy with a GoPro on a cowboy hat to the trial. My buddy Doc Malik recorded an eleventh hour interview last night if you want to hear Dr. Moore’s story in his own words. Because if the feds want to bury this story under a 900-page indictment, the boldest among us are going to resurrect it with a Substack and a livestream from the courthouse steps.

Doctors including Meryl Nass, Mary Talley Bowden, Margaret Aranda Ferrante and James Thorp are out there tirelessly crusading for him, and journalists like Liz Churchill and Shannon Joy are sharing Moore’s story and tagging Pam Bondi, Donald Trump, and Secretary Kennedy, begging for intervention. Anyone can submit public comment by calling DOJ Public Affairs Specialist Felicia Martinez at (801) 325-3237 or sending an email to Felicia.martinez@usdoj.gov. A Stand for Moore fundraising campaign has also been launched on GiveSendGo.

I don’t know how this ends. Maybe Trump pardons him. Maybe the heroic doctor gets 35 years and writes a best-selling prison memoir called Moore Than You Bargained For. But what I do know is this: heroes don’t always wear capes. Sometimes they wear scrubs, carry a cooler full of saline, and hand you a fake vaccine card with a wink and a warning: “Don’t tell the CDC.”

Money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy this book—which is sort of the same thing.