The story ran that night on every local station and was picked up nationally by outlets focused on health policy and medical ethics. Commentators discussed implicit bias, diagnostic error, hospital liability, and the structural ways healthcare systems bury patterns until someone with enough expertise, privilege, or resources forces the truth into daylight. That last part haunted me most because it was true. Ethan survived in part because he had me. A father who recognized the symptoms. A father with titles, colleagues, authority, access, and the willingness to weaponize all of it. What about the patients who had none of that? The people discharged into parking lots with worsening symptoms and no chief of surgery driving through the dark toward them? What protection did the system offer them besides whatever luck they could improvise?