This is the second installment in our series on Syncromune, Inc. and the prostate cancer therapy now entering Phase 2 trials in the United States. The first installment, published May 2, examined the trial itself and the patent identifying Dr. Jason R. Williams as a co-inventor. This piece looks at the doctor.

Jason R. Williams, 51, a board-certified radiologist, directs the Williams Cancer Institute, with offices in Beverly Hills, Cabo San Lucas, and Mexico City.

Williams says he has performed more than 5,000 image-guided cancer ablation procedures over 23 years, inserting needles into tumors under ultrasound or CT imaging. The clinic reports treating patients from 30 countries.

Patent filings list Williams as one of five co-inventors of a prostate cancer therapy that has entered Phase 2 clinical trials in the United States.

The Phase 1 trial had been conducted in Mexico, under Williams’s supervision, on men with metastatic prostate cancer.

At that stage of the disease, published response rates for standard immunotherapy are typically in the low single digits. In Williams’s Phase 1 study, he reports that 87% of men responded to treatment.

The Idea

Williams’s method begins with a needle inserted into the tumor. Part of the tumor is frozen. The cancer cells rupture, spilling their contents into the surrounding tissue. Through the same needle, at the same moment, Williams injects a mixture of immune-activating drugs into the wound.

The drugs are designed to remove what stops the immune system from attacking the cancer.

Over time, cancer cells develop the ability to display molecules on their surfaces that signal passing immune cells not to attack. They send signals that T-cells interpret as “this is normal tissue, leave it alone.” They quiet the immune cells that should be calling in other immune cells to help.

Three of the four drugs are designed to remove these obstacles — an anti-PD-1 antibody, an anti-CTLA-4 antibody, and an anti-CD40 antibody. The fourth, a synthetic DNA sequence called CpG, mimics a bacterial infection and attracts more immune cells to the tumor.

An oncologist might give these same drugs intravenously, at much higher doses, with harsher side effects. Williams puts them directly into the tumor at a fraction of the dose.

One Needle, One Visit

Banner promoting intratumoral chemotherapy and immunotherapy with Williams Cancer Institute logo; clinician in PPE beside a medical scanner.

Antigens from the ruptured cancer cells flood the area. The immune system, no longer fooled by the cancer’s disguises, begins hunting malignant cells throughout the bloodstream, the lymphatic channels, and the interiors of bone and organ tissue.

It is an outpatient procedure. The patient goes home the same day.

The Phase 1 trial, begun in February 2023, was conducted in Mexico, at Williams’s clinic outside Cabo San Lucas. According to Williams, he was the sponsor, the principal investigator, and the treating physician.

He recruited 15 patients from his own practice. He performed every procedure. The trial was conducted in Mexico, where regulations permitted the use of this four-drug combination, which has not been authorized for intratumoral use in the United States.

Outside an FDA-approved trial, no American physician could legally attempt it.

The findings were presented at the American Society of Clinical Oncology’s annual meeting in Chicago on May 31, 2025, and published in the Journal of Clinical Oncology.

Tumors shrank in 13 of 15 patients. In eight of them, no detectable cancer remained.

In 2024, the Food and Drug Administration granted Fast Track designation to Williams’s therapy.

The trial, called LEGION-100, is enrolling patients at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center, the University of Arizona Cancer Center, the Michigan Institute of Urology, and the Lankenau Institute outside Philadelphia.

This is a moment in American science. A concept crossed the border from “dangerous outsider medicine” to “promising institutional research.”

The Boy and the Nurse

Smiling man and woman posing for a selfie in a lobby with wooden doors in the background. — Jason Williams and Lois Williams

Williams’s mother, Lois, came from Covington, Louisiana, where she grew up as one of four children. She trained as a nurse at Charity Hospital in New Orleans.

Large Brutalist concrete building with a central tower and two symmetrical wings, facing a grassy front yard with trees and a street. — Charity Hospital New Orleans

At the time, Lois lived alone in a small apartment on Bourbon Street and walked to work. She met James Williams at the hospital. He was studying psychology. They stayed together from the day they met.

Their son, Jason, was born in 1974 in Hattiesburg, Mississippi.

For the first four years of his life, his mother stayed home with him. Then, financial necessity returned her to nursing.

Her shifts ran from 11 PM to 7 AM at psychiatric hospitals in Mississippi and Louisiana, among them the state hospital at Whitfield.

Throughout Jason’s childhood, it was Lois whose income arrived reliably, while her husband moved between occupations — delivering pizzas for Domino’s, selling shoes, working briefly at a car dealership — before settling into teaching high school.

While other mothers slept, Lois Williams walked hospital corridors. At 7 AM, she drove from work to take her son to school.

In the afternoons, she picked him up whenever she could so they could spend a few hours together walking through shopping malls and eating in food courts.

The Calls Home

Each night, after she arrived at the hospital for her shift, she telephoned home to make certain he was home.

Children remember those calls. Even when they grow up and become doctors and scientists and men other people write about, they remember the sound of somebody checking to see if they made it safely through the day.

When Jason was ten, Lois’s mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, and the family relocated to Madisonville, Louisiana.

The boy observed the illness the way children do, silently, from the edges of rooms, absorbing more than adults realize.

First came the mastectomy. Then radiation. Then chemotherapy. The procession of treatments stretched across two years, each phase carrying its own vocabulary: fatigue, nausea, waiting rooms, diminishing optimism.

Through all of it, he watched his mother — the nurse — care for her dying mother with the tenderness of someone who understood medicine and helplessness.

The nurse became a daughter again. She worked, worried, drove to appointments, sat beside beds, and kept going. Nurses, eventually, become family members in waiting rooms too.

Jason was 12 when his grandmother died.

He reduced the experience to a single sentence. “There’s got to be a better way than this.”

Most people have thoughts like that and move on. Occasionally, someone organizes a life around it.

The work he pursues now appears, in many respects, to be an attempt to answer the child who first spoke those words.

Perhaps that is what all meaningful work really is — an adult spending the rest of his life trying to answer something that hurt him as a child.

The Cancer Habit

Physician in black scrubs sits in a clinic next to a blue banner that reads'Immunotherapy for both advanced and early stage cancers' with the Williams Cancer Institute logo nearby.

The route from Madisonville, Louisiana, to Beverly Hills took more than 30 years.

It wandered. It stalled. At times, it appeared to collapse. It was the kind of path many Americans take when they believe in something before the world does.

In 2003, while a resident at the University of South Alabama, Williams filed his first patent involving ablation paired with intratumoral drug delivery — the conceptual ancestor of the work now entering advanced clinical trials. He lacked the money to complete the patent process.

He was injecting interleukin-2, interferon, and 3-bromopyruvate — a metabolic inhibitor that starves cancer cells of their energy supply — drugs an oncologist might give a patient through an IV.

Williams was putting them through a needle into the malignancy itself.

He built a cancer ablation program at the University of South Alabama. Patients came from across the country. Then the insurance companies decided that the procedure was experimental and stopped reimbursing for it. The university could not absorb the cost and ended the program.

He worked under a plastic surgeon in Gulf Shores, opened his own clinic, managed two radiology departments in rural Mississippi, and constructed a gene therapy laboratory in his home in Alabama.

Stem Cells in Alabama

He had herniated discs in his own neck and wanted to know if stem cells could regenerate spinal tissue. A friend, an Alabama car dealer named Mitch McConnell — no relation to the senator — had the same problem. McConnell let Williams try. Williams injected stem cells into his neck. Williams said it worked.

Portrait of an elderly man with white hair in a striped polo, indoors near a trophy display. — Frank Orgel

Williams opened a clinic in Gulf Shores in 2012 called Precision StemCell. One of his patients was Frank Orgel, a University of Georgia football player and longtime defensive coordinator under Pat Dye at Auburn. Orgel had Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), a motor neuron disease commonly called Lou Gehrig’s.

The motor neurons die, the muscles stop, and the patient suffocates. Most patients are dead within five years. There is no cure.

By 2012, Orgel could not move his left arm or leg. He could not stand on his own.

Williams thought he could harvest stem cells from Orgel’s own fat tissue, treat them with the drug selegiline to coax them into becoming neural cells, and inject them into Orgel’s spine.

Williams reports that within days, the constant muscle twitching that had tormented Orgel diminished. Within weeks, Orgel could walk in a pool of water and stand without help.

Orgel lived another 12 years. He died in 2024, at age 86, after a 20-year battle with a disease that usually kills in five.

Investigators at the Clinic

ALS advocacy groups filed complaints with the FDA. Investigators arrived at the Gulf Shores clinic. Williams said they were armed. They did not identify a clear statutory violation, according to Williams. But they told him to stop.

He went to Colombia, where the regulations permitted the work, and continued doing stem cell research there. In time, he concluded that stem cells helped ALS patients, but did not cure them. The improvement was temporary.

A friend at Johns Hopkins advised him to focus on cancer. Cure that first, she said. She was the researcher who had developed 3-bromopyruvate, the drug Williams had been injecting into tumors.

Williams relocated his practice to Mexico, where regulations permitted him to inject experimental drug combinations directly into tumors in ways impossible under American law.

There, he spent more than a decade refining the protocol that now sits within formal United States clinical trials.

Why It Matters

Prostate cancer kills 35,000 American men each year. Once the disease becomes castration-resistant — the advanced stage Williams focused on — the disease is considered incurable.

The available therapies postpone progression, soften symptoms, and extend life by a few months.

If the Phase 2 trial confirms the Phase 1 results, then the protocol developed by a nurse’s son, conceived in Louisiana, pursued through years of professional instability, and refined in Mexico when American regulations would not permit the work, could represent a significant change in the treatment of advanced prostate cancer.

There is something profoundly American in that story — not the polished America of institutions and certainty, but the restless America of stubborn people continuing anyway.

The Sentence and the Dream

Williams credits his mother for teaching him the principle that now seems to organize his life.

“My mother said the cure for thinking too much about yourself was helping somebody who was worse off than you.”

It is an old Southern ethic disguised as simple advice. There are entire philosophies inside that sentence. Entire religions.

Then there is a second statement, quieter and stranger.

“I dream of children of the future, of the near future, who will ask, ‘Mother, what was cancer?’”

Human beings survive because, somewhere in every generation, someone remains willing to dream impossible things.

Blue promotional image showing a hand holding a book titled 'The Immunotherapy Revolution' with a caption about training the immune system.

Williams wrote a book in 2019, The Immunotherapy Revolution: The Best New Hope for Saving Cancer Patients’ Lives. He wrote it, he said, because he was telling the same things to patients day after day, and most of them were not hearing it from their oncologists. He wanted information about immunotherapy options to reach more people than he could see in his clinic.

Circular wooden plaque reading 'Further Reading on the Topic' with a book, eye, anchor, and laurel motif on a stand on a bookshelf.

Frank Report’s first piece in the series:

US Trial Begins for Prostate Cancer Therapy Developed by Syncromune’s Dr. Jason Williams

The Phase 2 trial itself:

ClinicalTrials.gov listing for LEGION-100 (Phase 2): https://clinicaltrials.gov/study/NCT06533644
ClinicalTrials.gov listing for the Phase 1 trial: https://clinicaltrials.gov/study/NCT05544227
LEGION-100 trial public site (for patient enrollment inquiries): https://legion100trial.com

The published findings:

The Journal of Clinical Oncology abstract from ASCO 2025: https://ascopubs.org/doi/10.1200/JCO.2025.43.16_suppl.2504

Syncromune corporate information:

Syncromune press release on Phase 1 ASCO presentation (May 23, 2025): https://syncromune.com/2025/05/23
Syncromune corporate site: https://syncromune.com

The underlying patent:

U.S. Patent Application US20230404642A1, “Method for the treatment of cancer via tumor cell lysis and intratumoral administration of combinations of immunotherapeutic ingredients” — searchable at Google Patents: https://patents.google.com/patent/US20230404642A1

Williams’s own work:

Williams Cancer Institute: https://www.williamscancerinstitute.com
The Immunotherapy Revolution book site: https://immunotherapyrevolution.com

Infographic about immunotherapy trials, showing three columns: origin in Mexico, how SV-102 intra-tumoral therapy works with diagrams of injection and frozen cells, and US trial enrollment with maps and FDA Fast Track logo; bottom quote from Dr. Jason Williams.