Prince Al-Waleed bin Khaled bin Talal Al Saud, often called the "Sleeping Prince," passed away on July 19, 2025, at the age of 36, after spending two decades in a coma. His case captured global attention—not just because he was a Saudi royal, but because it raised important, complicated questions about the boundaries of medicine, the cost of hope, and how deeply religion and science can collide when life is suspended in the in-between.This is not just a story of a tragic accident. It’s a case study in coma care, the medical frontier of consciousness, and the emotional weight of keeping someone alive long after the mind may have left the body.The 2005 Accident and Immediate AftermathThe story began in 2005 when 15-year-old Al-Waleed, studying at the London Cadet Academy, was involved in a devastating car crash in the UK. He suffered a traumatic brain injury with internal bleeding, injuries so severe that doctors placed him into a medically induced coma. When he didn’t regain consciousness, he was transferred to King Abdulaziz Medical City in Riyadh.There, for nearly 20 years, he remained on life support—unable to communicate or move voluntarily, yet never declared brain dead.His father, Prince Khaled bin Talal, made a resolute decision: he would not allow doctors to remove his son from the machines keeping him alive. "If God had wanted him to die in the accident, he would have been in his grave now," the prince once said. For two decades, that conviction never wavered.Coma, Vegetative State, and the Science of Minimal ConsciousnessA coma is a state of deep unconsciousness from which a person cannot be awakened. It usually lasts days to weeks. After that, some patients recover; others transition into what's known as a Persistent Vegetative State (PVS)—a condition in which the patient appears awake but shows no awareness of self or environment. Then there’s the Minimally Conscious State (MCS), where the individual shows intermittent, inconsistent signs of awareness, like responding to voices or moving a finger.Al-Waleed’s condition fell somewhere between PVS and MCS. Videos over the years, shared by family members, showed him making small movements—turning his head or lifting a finger when spoken to. These moments offered slivers of hope, though neurologists often consider such responses involuntary or reflexive.A team of specialists from the US and Spain evaluated him in 2017, hoping to treat ongoing bleeding in his brain. Despite their efforts, meaningful progress never came.Two Decades of Medical Timeline2005: Al-Waleed is critically injured in a car crash in the UK.2006: Transferred to Riyadh; placed on full life support—ventilator, feeding tubes, 24/7 ICU care.2007–2016: Minor signs of response (eye flickering, finger movement) periodically observed.2017: US and Spanish neurologists assess his condition. Surgery considered, but no breakthrough.2019: Viral video shows the prince moving his head—interpreted by many as a sign of improvement.2020–2024: Social media updates continue from family. Hospital room becomes a space for communal prayer.2025: Prince Al-Waleed passes away after nearly 20 years in a coma.ICU, Machines, and the Cost of CareProlonged life support is a complex mix of technology, manpower, and belief. Over 20 years, Al-Waleed required continuous mechanical ventilation, a gastrostomy feeding tube, urinary catheters, frequent physiotherapy to prevent muscle atrophy, and round-the-clock nursing care.In medical terms, this is high-burden, high-cost care. For families, it’s also emotionally exhausting. Hope becomes both a gift and a weight—especially when every slight movement is interpreted through a lens of miraculous potential.In most countries, patients in similar conditions are eventually removed from life support. But in Saudi Arabia—and many other faith-based societies—the decision is more than medical. It’s spiritual.The Faith vs. Medicine DividePrince Khaled bin Talal's refusal to remove his son from life support became a focal point for public debate. In many Islamic cultures, life is considered sacred and not to be ended prematurely by human hands. The Saudi health system often reflects this stance.Yet this case wasn't only about religion—it was about whether medicine should sustain life at any cost, even if consciousness never returns.Over the years, some viewed the decision as inspiring, a father’s unwavering love fueled by faith. Others, including parts of the global medical community, questioned whether continued life support was prolonging suffering in a life devoid of awareness.The science around coma recovery is still evolving. Modern brain imaging tools like fMRI and PET scans have shown that some patients labeled as vegetative do, in fact, have signs of covert consciousness—areas of the brain responding to speech or even visual stimuli.There's also research into stimulation therapies, like transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS) and deep brain stimulation (DBS), offering hope for select patients. But the reality is that patients who remain in a vegetative state for more than a year have an extremely low chance of meaningful recovery.Prince Al-Waleed’s case, despite global specialist involvement, saw no such breakthrough. In the end, Prince Al-Waleed became a symbol—of paternal devotion, of the hope that endures even when medicine has few answers, and of the ethical gray zone where religion, medicine, and morality overlap.As medicine continues to push boundaries—extending life, restoring movement, decoding consciousness—the case of the Sleeping Prince reminds us that the hardest decisions are not about what we can do, but what we should do.