In five separate incidents in January 2018, Israeli soldiers killed five Palestinians – four of them teenagers –in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip:.
On 3 January 2018, soldiers shot Mus’ab a-Sufi (16) in the neck, and killed him in the village of Deir Nidham, Ramallah District. (The next day, 4 January, during a-Sufi’s funeral, soldiers shot Muhammad ‘Awad (19) from the village of ‘Abud in the head, wounding him severely.)
On 11 January, soldiers shot ‘Ali Qinu (17) in the head and killed him near the village of ‘Iraq Burin, south of Nablus.
On 11 January, soldiers shot Amir Abu Masa’ed (15) in the armpit and killed him, at a demonstration near the perimeter fence in the area of Deir al-Balah, in the central Gaza Strip.
On 15 January, soldiers shot Ahmad Salim (28) in the head and killed him near the village of Jayus, east of Qalqiliyah.
On 30 January, soldiers shot Layth Abu Na’im (16) in the head and killed him in the village of al-Mughayir, northeast of Ramallah.
The five Palestinians were shot although they were not endangering the lives of the soldiers or of anyone else. According to the military’s open-fire regulations, shooting to kill is permitted only when the lives of security forces or other persons are in danger. Even then, it is allowed only when there are no other means of averting the danger. The killings in January 2018 – like the cases of the six Palestinians who were killed in incidents involving stone-throwing in the West Bank and the eleven Palestinians killed during protests near the Gaza perimeter fence in 2017, three of them teenagers – were a far cry from meeting these criteria.
Israel’s defense establishment, including the military law enforcement system, does not seem to be troubled by such incidents and chooses, as a rule, to ignore them. In some cases, an MPIU investigation is opened, but they almost always result in a cover-up and in any case, center on the responsibility of the soldier who fired the shot and not of his commanders or of the senior military echelons, who determine and oversee the implementation of the open-fire policy.
This conduct renders the open-fire regulations, which are supposed to limit the use of lethal firepower, void of meaning and conveys Israel’s deep disregard for the lives of Palestinians. Israel’s defense system, including the military law enforcement system, chooses as a rule to back up the shooters or cover up the incident in such cases. The fact that the enforcement agencies effectively allow soldiers to blatantly disregard the open-fire regulations with no accountability allowed the continued use of lethal force – a crucial element in Israel’s ability to maintain violent control over millions of Palestinians.
3 Jan. 2018: The killing of Mus’ab a-Sufi, 16, resident of Deir Nidham
Mus’ab a-Sufi
After US President Trump issued his “Jerusalem statement” on 6 December 2017, the village of Deir Nidham, northwest of Ramallah, was the scene of nearly daily clashes between village youths and Israeli security forces. The youths threw stones at Road 465, which runs north of the village, and members of the security forces fired tear-gas canisters and rubber-coated metal bullets at them. In some cases, they chased stone throwers into the village. Over the rest of the month, security forces raided the village eight times, arrested one person and wounded another with a rubber-coated bullet. Several other residents suffered from gas inhalation.
On 1 January 2018, at around 7:30 in the morning, about thirty military, Border Police and Civil Administration jeeps drove into the village. The troops posted bills throughout the village threatening that military action would be taken against the residents to prevent “the terrorist activity and the public disturbances”.
Two days later, on 3 January, at around 10:00 in the morning, some children threw stones at Road 465. Soldiers who arrived at the scene fired tear-gas canisters and rubber-coated metal bullets at them. The children fled to some groves located south of the road. Clashes between several dozen children and youths and about 10 soldiers and Border Police officers continued until about 1:00 in the afternoon. The security forces chased the children into the grove area and fired live rounds, “rubber” bullets, tear-gas canisters and stun grenades. At around 12:30 P.M., a small group of soldiers and Border Police officers entered the eastern part of the village and arrested an 18-year-old youth with a psychosocial disability who was passing by. In the clashes that took place after his arrest, a 15-year-old was wounded by shrapnel.
At around 1:00 P.M., four soldiers positioned themselves near a fig tree located near one of the village homes, about 250 meters away from Road 465 and some 60 meters away from a group of ten to twenty children and teenagers. The children and teenagers, who were standing on the road and inside a nearby olive grove, threw stones at the soldiers, and the latter fired live rounds at them. A military drone was flying overhead.
In a testimony he gave on 4 January 2018 to B’Tselem field researcher Iyad Hadad, N.S., 17, described what happened:
View from where the soldiers fired at the road and olive groves where the teens were. Photo by Iyad Hadad, B’Tselem, 4 Jan. 2018
In a testimony he gave on 4 January 2018 to B’Tselem field researcher Iyad Hadad, N.S., 17, described what happened:
Four soldiers positioned themselves near the fig tree, about ten meters southeast of Yunes’ house. Mus’ab and I were on the path leading up to the center of the village, about fifty to seventy meters away from the soldiers. Mus’ab’s brother, A., 15, and a few other kids were hiding behind the olive trees in the grove. The soldiers fired four shots in our direction without hitting anyone, just the rocks and tree trunks. Every time they fired, the kids shouted out a warning.
At around 1:00 P.M., I heard cries of warning from Umm Khaldun’s balcony: “Watch out, the soldier is aiming at you”. Every time I saw a soldier aiming his weapon at us, we hid behind a wall or tree or rock. At that point, Mus’ab was sitting by the side of the road, to my right. He said to me: “I want to move forward, cover me”. I don’t know if he meant to throw a stone or just hide somewhere else. He got up and moved forward a few meters. He wasn’t holding anything at the time, not even stones. One of the soldiers, I can’t remember which one, pointed his weapon at Mus’ab. Both I and his brother warned him: “Hide, hide, he’s aiming at you”, but he didn’t listen.
Mus’ab kept going forward, and then one of the soldiers fired a live round at him that hit his neck. Mus’ab immediately fell to the ground and started groaning. I went up to him and saw he was bleeding heavily from the left side of his neck. I was scared. My legs started shaking. I was so scared I didn’t dare stay with him, so I took off and started calling out to the village residents: “Someone’s been hit. Someone’s been hit”. A few children went up to him and his father, who heard he’d been hit, came and took him in a car to the hospital in Ramallah.
Mus’ab’s father, Firas a-Sufi (43, a married father of four), was standing next to his car about fifty meters away from where the clashes were taking place. He recounted what happened in a testimony he gave to B’Tselem field-researcher Iyad Hadad on 7 January 2018:
Firas a-Sufi. Photo by Alex Levac
I was following the incidents from a spot about fifty meters away. After a few minutes, I heard live fire. At that moment, the protesters started shouting “Someone’s been hurt. Someone’s been hurt in the head”. I drove my car to where the shouts were coming from. I didn’t know the person who got hit was actually my son, but somehow, I had a feeling it was him.
When I got there, I saw a group of people gathered near the injured person. I got out of the car and started asking: “Who is it? Who is it”? They said: “Mus’ab”. I was beside myself and ran over to him. He was lying on the ground, bleeding from the neck. His face was covered in blood. There were women and children around him, including my son, A., 15, who was confused. He was shouting and crying. A few people helped me lift Mus’ab and get him into the backseat of the car. When we lifted him up he spewed blood, and then his whole body went limp. Two young men from the village got in the car with me and we drove fast toward the hospitals in Ramallah. As soon as we were out of the village, one of the guys called an ambulance.
On the way, the guys held Mus’ab, and one of them put pressure on his wound to stop the bleeding. Every once in a while I reached my hand out and felt his face to make sure he was still alive. The whole way I kept asking the guys: “Is he still alive? Is he still alive”? They said he still had a pulse. I felt from the very first moment that he was going to die, but I still hoped he’d live. After about a ten-minute drive, the ambulance met us near the ‘Atarah bridge, and we transferred Mus’ab into it. They took him to al-Istishari Hospital in Ramallah.
A-Sufi reached the hospital at 1:30 P.M., without a pulse. After an hour of attempts to resuscitate him, he was pronounced dead.
The clashes in Deir Nidham continued after Mus’ab a-Sufi was evacuated until late that afternoon.
The next day, on 4 January 2018, clashes erupted again near Road 465, at around 1:00 P.M., during Mus’ab a-Sufi’s funeral. At around 1:30 P.M., soldiers shot Muhammad ‘Awad, a 19-year-old resident of Abud from a distance of about twenty meters. He was evacuated to al-Istishari Hospital in Ramallah where he was diagnosed with a fracture cranium and metal shrapnel lodged in the head. He underwent head surgery and is still in hospital.
In his testimony, Firas a-Sufi described his son:
Mus’ab was in 11th grade and was very serious about school. When we lived in Jordan, he was the lead in the choir and the head of the Jordanian public school council. When we returned to the village, he took on running the school radio station in the village. About a month ago, he was hit by a “rubber” bullet in the left leg during a protest in the village, but he recovered quickly. I had high hopes for him. He was active in a lot of things and had a lot of friends. He wanted to study business administration and get into business. The shots fired by the occupation soldiers cut short his hopes and dreams. He was snatched away from us suddenly, leaving me, his mother and his brothers totally shattered.
A-Sufi’s father displays a poster commemorating his son; it was defaced by soldiers who scribbled hate messages on it two days after he was killed.
11 Jan. 2018: The killing of ‘Ali Qinu, 17, resident of ‘Iraq Burin
'Ali Qinu
On the morning of 11 January 2018, soldiers set up a checkpoint on the road linking the village of ‘Iraq Burin to the city of Nablus and the village of Tell. The checkpoint was part of a series of travel restrictions imposed by the military while it was searching for the suspect in the killing of Israeli rabbi Raziel Shevach two days earlier. This resulted in clashes during which youths threw stones at soldiers and soldiers fired tear-gas canisters at them and threw stun grenades. The clashes continued until about 5:00 o’clock in the evening.
At around 4:30 P.M., two military jeeps drove from the direction of Burin toward ‘Iraq Burin, and some youths from ‘Iraq Burin, who had climbed a nearby hill, threw stones at them from a distance of about thirty meters. The first jeep continued driving toward the village, while the second one stopped about thirty meters away from the youths. In a testimony he gave to B’Tselem field researcher Salma a-Deb'I on 21 January 2-18, ‘A.Q., 20, recounted what happened next:
11 Jan. 2018: The killing of ‘Ali Qinu, 17, resident of ‘Iraq Burin
A soldier who was sitting in the jeep fired two or three shots in our direction. Then he fired more than twenty shots in a row. We all ran away from the fire, and then the jeep started driving toward the village again.
After the jeeps got farther away, we checked to make sure everyone was okay. We didn’t see ‘Ali. We called out to him and looked for him. We went back to where we had been before, and found him lying face down. His head was split open and he was bleeding. I turned him over together with another guy. His face was pale and there was no sign of life. He wasn’t breathing. I put my hand on his neck and there was no pulse.
One of the young men went down to the road and stopped a car that was passing by. Several youths lifted the injured Qinu and got him into the car, which took him to a hospital in Nablus. The doctors pronounced him dead and found he had died from a bullet wound to the head.
His mother, Raedah Qino (45, a married mother of four) spoke about her son ‘Ali in a testimony she gave B’Tselem field researcher Salma a- Deb'i on 25 January 2018:
When I saw Ali in the morgue fridge, I lost my mind. I couldn’t believe it was my youngest son ‘Ali, the youngest and most spoiled kid. I always thought he was the best looking of all my boys, and he had so much compassion for me and for his brother Wasim, who has cerebral palsy. He was always the first to help me take care of Wasim, and would sit with him so we could look after other things. He loved everyone and everyone loved him. He was like a gift from heaven.
Every day it feels like he’s been killed again, and I feel like I say goodbye to him again every minute. The parting is so hard, it’s unbearable. It hurt so much when his friends went back to school after the winter break. I cried so much. His classmates put a bouquet of flowers on his bench and wrote on the board: “Everyone is absent. Only ‘Ali is present” and left the room. At the end of the school day, his friends came over to my house and apologized for being unable to look me in the eye. Parting with ‘Ali is very hard for them, too.
The soldier who killed him killed me too, and everyone who loved him. He could have easily just hit his legs.
Palestinian flag placed at the spot on the hill that ‘Ali Qinu was killed. Photo by Salma a-Deb’i, B’Tselem, 14 Jan. 2018
11 January: The killing of Amir Abu Masa’ed (15) from Deir al-Balah, Gaza:
Amir Abu Masa’ed
On 11 January, a demonstration was held near the perimeter fence between Gaza and Israel, east of al-Bureij Refugee Camp. Palestinian youths threw stones at soldiers who were on the other side of the fence. Amir Abu Masa’ed was shot in the armpit and killed by soldiers when he was about 50 to 70 meters from the fence.
In a testimony given to B’Tselem field researcher Khaled al-‘Azayzeh on 15 January, A.N. (17), a resident of al-Bureij R.C., related:
At around 16:20 P.M., I went up with some other youths to the highest spot in the area, to see the soldiers. About five minutes later, most of the youths went back down because they were scared. I stayed up there with a guy I didn’t know. Suddenly, we were fired at. I was hit in the left thigh by a bullet. I felt my leg go weak and fell over. I saw blood coming out of the wound. I saw a few guys picking up the other guy, who was also wounded, about four meters away from me. Later I learned that his name was Amir Abu Masa’ed.
Abu Masa’ed was taken, already lifeless, to hospital in Deir al-Balah.
15 January 2018: The killing of Ahmad Salim, 28, resident of Jayus
Ahmad Salim
On 15 January 2018, at around 1:00 o’clock in the afternoon, about ten youths from the village of Jayus, east of Qalqiliyah, spread out along the Separation Barrier and threw stones at two Israeli jeeps that were driving on the road adjacent to the barrier, near the village. Soldiers and Border Police officers fired tear gas and live fire at the youths from inside the jeeps. At around 4:00 P.M., one of the jeeps left the area and another arrived, and four masked soldiers got out. About half an hour later, Ahmad Salim advanced to the northern part of the hill he was standing on.
A.N., 20, who was standing on the hill with him, said in a testimony he gave on 22 January 2018 to B’Tselem field researcher Abdulkarim Sadi:
We threw stones at the masked soldiers and they started advancing along the road. Ahmad approached them, on the hill, above the route of the barrier. I stayed where I was, about twenty to thirty meters away from him. I saw Ahmad bend down and pick up a small stone to throw at the soldiers, and then one of them aimed his gun at Ahmad. I saw the soldier open fire at him and heard three shots. One of them must have hit him. He fell to the ground, on his left side. I crawled over to him. He smiled at me and asked me to pick him up. I couldn’t do it, because the soldiers were still there and I was afraid they’d shoot me. I dragged about ten meters away, to get him out of the soldiers’ line of vision.
Two village residents who had heard the shots came running. One of them picked Salim up and took him to an ambulance that other residents had called, which was waiting about 400 meters away. Salim was taken to hospital in Qalqiliyah, where he was pronounced dead after attempted resuscitation.
Road where the soldiers were standing, the Separation Barrier, and the hill beyond it where Ahmad Salim was killed. Photo by Abdulkarim Sadi, B’Tselem, 16 Jan. 2018
His sister, Rawan Salim (30, a married and mother of four), spoke about her brother in a testimony she gave B’Tselem field researcher Abdulkarim Sadi on 25 January 2018:
Ahmad and I were very close. When we were little, my mother called us “Tom and Jerry”. In 2016, Ahmad was released after three years in an Israeli prison. He enrolled at the al-Quds Open University for BA in education. About a year ago, he opened a restaurant on the ground floor of our house. He would always bring me and the children food after work. He wanted to get married, and I was helping him look for a bride. Ahmad had a big heart and a lot of patience. He took care of our younger siblings, and my little girls really loved him. When he was killed, everyone in the village came to his funeral.
30 Jan. 2018: The killing of Layth Abu Na’im, 16, resident of al-Mughayir
Layth Abu Na’im
The village of al-Mughayir is situated northeast of Ramallah. After US President Trump issued his “Jerusalem statement” on 6 December 2017, the village, was the scene of nearly daily clashes between village youths and Israeli security forces. Youths threw stones toward Route 458 (Allon Road), which runs east of the village, and the security forces responded by throwing stun grenades and firing tear-gas canisters, rubber-coated metal bullets and live ammunition at the youths. During the weeks following the declaration, military forces entered the village almost every day.
On 30 Jan. 2018, at about 3:00 P.M., a group of youths from the village set out to throw stones toward Allon Road. Military jeeps arrived on the scene, from within which soldiers threw stun grenades and firing tear-gas canisters and rubber-coated metal bullets. At about 4:00 P.M., the youths fled back into the village and two military jeeps pursued them. All the youths dispersed in the village, except for Layth Abu Na’im, 16, who hid amid the cement posts surrounding a yard in the center of the village. The military jeeps stopped close by.
In a testimony he gave on 31 January 2018 to B'Tselem field researcher Iyad Hadad, ‘A.M. (69, a married father of six), who owns a nearby store, described what happened next:
The youth – I didn’t know his name – tried to hide or to throw a stone, but I didn’t see any stone thrown. A jeep had stopped about 20 meters away. I heard a shot and saw the youth fall to the ground and stop moving. A soldier immediately got out of the jeep, and then several other soldiers got out to check the area. They looked all around and at the roofs, with their guns ready. The soldier who got out first came over to me together with another soldier, pointed his weapon at me and ordered me to go inside the store. They went up to the youth who had been shot, looked at him close up and then left him there. They hurried back to the jeep and left.
After the soldiers approached Abu Na’im and left the scene, without providing him any medical assistance, youths from the village put him in a private car and he was taken to a medical center in the adjacent village of Turmusaya. During the journey, one of the youths tried to administer first aid. Abu Na’im was treated for a few minutes at the medical center and then transferred to hospital in Ramallah. He was clinically dead on arrival at the hospital. The hospital physicians pronounced him dead and stated that he had been killed by a “rubber” bullet that had penetrated his skull through his face. The firing of a “rubber” bullet from a range of around 20 meters at the upper torso is, of course, contrary to the open-fire regulations, precisely because of the high probability of lethal outcomes, as occurred in this case.
On 9 February 2018 it, Israeli daily Haaretz reported that the Military Police have launched an investigation of the incident.
The cement posts where Layth Abu Na’im hid. Photo by Iyad Hadad, B’Tselem, 5 Feb. 2018
Fathi Abu Na’im, 63, a married father of nine, was Abu Na’im’s grandfather and had raised him since the boy was two years old. In a testimony he gave on 5 February 2018 to B'Tselem field researcher Iyad Hadad, he described his grandson:
Fathi Abu Na’im
After his mother died when he was two, Layth lived with my wife and me. In 2005, his father remarried and left the village. We spoiled him a lot, more than our own children. We never let him feel that he was an orphan. After all our own children got married and left home, Layth was our pride and joy. We were closely involved in his life. He loved soccer and played as the goalkeeper on the school team and at the village club. He won lots of trophies and medals and dreamed of becoming a professional soccer player and being famous. He also liked to swim and when he visited his father in Beit Sira, he used to swim in the village pool there. He didn’t see the sea even once in his life, though – only the Dead Sea. I dreamed of taking him to see the sea and to visit Haifa and Jaffa.
A soldier killed my grandson for no reason, in cold blood. My heart aches and I feel a terrible sense of loss. May God help his grandmother. She went into shock when she heard that he had died. She just looked at his photograph and cried. She can’t sleep at night – she wakes up all the time – and I wake up because of her crying. It’s a very bad feeling that words can’t describe.
Updates:
‘Ali Qinu: On 5 March 2018, the MPIU’s National Unit for Operational Investigations informed B’Tselem by email that an MPIU investigation had been launched. On 26 August 2019, B’Tselem learned that the case had been closed without any indictments.
Ahmad Salim: On 5 March 2018, the MPIU’s National Unit for Operational Investigations informed B’Tselem by email that an MPIU investigation had been launched. On 26 August 2019, B’Tselem learned that the case had been sent to a military prosecutor for review. On 15 March 2021, the MAG Corps informed B’Tselem that the case had been closed without an indictment.
Layth Abu Na’im: On 9 February 2018 media reports stated that an MPIU investigation had been launched. On 26 August 2019, B’Tselem learned that the case had been closed without any indictments.
Mus’ab a-Sufi: On 10 May 2018, the MAG Corps informed human rights organization Yesh Din that no investigation would be launched into the incident, as the shooting did not indicate a possible criminal offense.
Over a six-month period, from early December 2025 to early June 2026, Israeli armed forces in the West Bank killed nine people, including two children aged five and six, and a seven-month-old infant, in five separate incidents in which they fired without warning at cars carrying Palestinians in residential areas, even though they posed no threat. In all cases, the forces opened fire on the vehicles after they had slowed down to stop. In two cases, the drivers had braked of their own volition after panicking when they noticed the forces’ presence at the scene, even though they were not ordered to stop. In two other incidents, the drivers were completely unaware of the forces’ presence before coming under fire. A recurring pattern emerges from all five cases investigated by B’Tselem: lethal fire used against vehicles carrying civilians, even when they pose no danger to the forces.Three of the vehicles were carrying families with children.In one incident, on 10 January 2026, a soldier fired at the vehicle in which Shaker Ja’bri, 58, was driving his daughter and her four young children, between two and eleven years old. The car was driving uphill, and Ja’bri slammed the brakes when he saw soldiers up ahead. Immediately, one of the soldiers fired three shots at the car from just a few meters away. Ja’bri was hit in the forehead and died on the spot.In a separate incident that occurred on 15 March 2026 in the town of Tammun, undercover Border Police officers opened heavy fire at a car carrying a couple and their four young children, between the ages of five and 11, from a distance of approximately 10 meters. The parents – Wa’d and ‘Ali Bani ‘Odeh – their six-year-old son, ‘Othman, and their five-year-old son, Muhammad, were killed. The two surviving children, 11-year-old Khaled and eight-year-old Mustafa, were lightly wounded. The shots were fired immediately after the family’s car, which was moving slowly, rounded a curve on one of the town’s streets. The father, who was driving, was not ordered by the troops to stop. The family did not see the Israeli forces until they came under fire, nor were they aware of their presence in the area.In the third incident, on 5 June 2026, in Hebron, a soldier opened fire on a car carrying a couple, Dania Salama-Abu Haikal and her husband Fahed Abu Haikal, their seven-month-old son Sam, his 12-year-old brother Kinan, and the children’s 80-year-old grandmother, Firyal Abu Haikal. As in the previous incident in Hebron, the shooting occurred while the car was slowing down and about to stop. Regardless, one of the soldiers opened fire at the car from a distance of about 20 meters, killing the infant.In all three cases, the shots were fired from close range, from which the passengers in the vehicles could be seen, indicating that even the visible presence of children did not avert the shooting. This underscores the gap between the actual circumstances of the incidents and the military’s routine claims that the soldiers were in immediate danger. Following the killing of the Bani ‘Odeh family in Tammun, the IDF spokesperson and the police rushed to issue a false claim that the car had accelerated toward the forces, who felt threatened and opened fire. However, the shooting targeted a civilian vehicle carrying a family with young children on their way back from shopping in Nablus.The military issued a similar statement following the killing of the infant, Sam Abu Haikal, in Hebron, claiming that the forces “felt that a vehicle was accelerating toward them.” Although Abu Haikal’s death had already been confirmed by around 10:00 P.M. that night, the army’s statement, released about 90 minutes later, claimed that “three Palestinians were wounded and evacuated for medical treatment,” without mentioning the fatal injury to the infant. The army did acknowledge in its statement that “a preliminary investigation indicates that these were bystanders.” On 7 June 2026, two days after the incident, the media reported that the military had decided to open an investigation into the incident. According to a report published by CNN, residents and business owners in the area said that the military later returned to the scene and confiscated security camera footage. While the announcement of the investigation ostensibly indicates an attempt to uncover the truth, B’Tselem’s experience shows that the confiscation of footage documenting harm to Palestinians is generally not intended to advance the investigation but rather to cover it up and conceal evidence, and that such investigations usually conclude without any findings. On 11 August 2026, Haaretz reported that the Military Police Investigation Unit refused to say whether the soldier who fired at the Abu Haikal family had been questioned. The paper also reported the Department for the Investigation of Police had not summoned the Border Police officers who shot and killed members of the Bani ‘Odeh family for questioning and that the investigation into the matter was set to close.The three cases in which families with children were harmed are not exceptional. In December 2025 alone, B’Tselem has documented two additional incidents in which soldiers fired at vehicles that posed no danger. On 6 December 2025, in Hebron, Israeli soldiers shot and killed Ahmad Rajabi, 17, after he obeyed their orders to stop his vehicle, then, startled by the gunfire, pressed the gas pedal again and lightly struck one of the soldiers. The barrage of fire also killed Ziad Abu Dawood, 56, a municipal sanitation worker, who happened to be at the scene.On 28 December 2025, near ‘Einabus in the Nablus District, soldiers fired at a car carrying four young men after it slowed down and was about to stop. Qays ‘Allan, 20, was killed in the shooting, and his three friends were wounded.Lethal fire directed at vehicles carrying civilians is not new. As early as 1994, B’Tselem published an extensive report on the issue. More than three decades later, such shootings continue to claim the lives of Palestinians in the West Bank: Between 7 October 2023 and 31 August 2026, B’Tselem documented the killing of 29 people by Israeli forces who fired at vehicles in the West Bank. At least 22 of them, about 75% of all those killed, posed no danger whatsoever. In the remaining seven cases, it was not possible to determine, based on the information B’Tselem gathered, whether those killed posed any danger. In some cases, there were no eyewitnesses, and in others, witnesses were afraid to provide information. Another factor impeding conclusive findings is the fact that in the months following 7 October 2023, Israeli authorities rarely issued statements about killings in the West Bank, so their version of these events is not available.In 14 cases, the military, the police, or the Shin Bet claimed that the deceased posed a threat to the forces. In 13 cases, it was alleged that they attempted to run over the forces at the scene. B’Tselem’s investigations debunked this claim regarding ten of the fatalities; in the remaining three cases, it was not possible to determine, based on the information gathered, whether an attempt to run over Israeli forces had actually taken place. In another case, the police claimed that the person killed was armed, but this claim could not be confirmed or ruled out based on the information gathered by B’Tselem.Four other victims were bystanders fatally shot by Israeli forces following attempts by others nearby to attack the forces. One of them was four-year-old Ruqayah Jahalin, who was riding in a taxi with her family and was killed by Border Police gunfire after two Palestinians attempted to run over an officer at a nearby checkpoint. One man was killed by soldiers firing from an ambush after several residents threw Molotov cocktails at them on Route 55, and another was shot and killed while trying to get out of a vehicle to evacuate his friend, who had been shot after throwing an IED at a military base. Another man was killed by heavy gunfire aimed at a driver of a car that was near him. The forces claimed that the driver had tried to run them over, but an investigation by B’Tselem refuted this claim.Another man was shot and killed by soldiers after the vehicle in which he was traveling with another person failed to stop at a flying checkpoint, and someone else was killed while traveling with another person in a stolen vehicle during a chase by Israeli forces that involved gunfire.Two other men, who were armed Islamic Jihad operatives, were killed in their vehicle during clashes between Palestinians and Israeli forces in the Jenin refugee camp. It is unknown whether the two participated in the clashes, in which 15 other people were killed, including five minors.In the remaining seven cases, for which no official statements were issued, a B’Tselem investigation found that the shootings did not occur in the context of clashes, a chase, or an attempt by another person to harm the forces, and no official source claimed that the deceased posed any danger.The following is an investigation into the two most recent incidents, in Hebron and Tammun:The killing of ‘Ali and Wa’d Bani ‘Odeh and their two children, ‘Othman, 6, and Muhammad, 5, in Tammun, 15 March 2026:On Saturday evening, 14 March 2026, toward the end of the month of Ramadan, large numbers of soldiers and undercover Border Police officers raided several homes in the town of Tammun.While the raid was underway, the Bani ‘Odeh family made their way back to town from an outing and shopping for ‘Eid al-Fitr in Nablus. The family, on their way home, were driving slowly, and as their car rounded a curve, undercover Border Police officers opened live fire at it from about 10 meters away, killing the parents, ’Ali, 38, and Wa’d Bani Odeh, 36, and two of their children: six-year-old ‘Othman, who was blind, and five-year-old Muhammad. As noted above, the father, who was driving the car, was not ordered by the undercover forces to stop, and the family was not aware that forces were in the area and did not notice them until the moment they opened fire on their car.The couple’s two other children survived the attack. Khaled, 11, who ducked and escaped the gunfire, said that when the shooting stopped, the undercover officers pulled him and his brother Mustafa, 8, out of the car. He said they interrogated him violently, slapped him, beat him, and insisted that he was Yaman Bani ‘Odeh — a teenager the forces were searching for that night.Later, the forces arrested Yaman Bani ‘Odeh, 15, at his home, after searching the house and beating his mother and sisters. As of mid-August 2026, he remains in administrative detention.B’Tselem field researcher ‘Aref Daraghmeh collected testimonies from several members of the Bani ‘Odeh family, as well as from the residents of the two houses that soldiers raided that same night:Khaled Bani ‘Odeh, 11, who survived the fatal shooting along with his eight-year-old brother Mustafa, recounted on 16 March 2026:I live in the town of Tammun with my family – my parents and my three brothers. My father worked in Israel for years and would come visit us once in a while.He didn’t come in the last three months because of work, but he called us every day to make sure we were all okay. Towards the end of Ramadan, we called him, and he told us he would be coming in a day or two. On Friday evening, 13 March 2026, at around 8:00 P.M., after the iftar meal, he finally came home. We were very happy and excited. My brothers, my mother and I waited outside the house to see him coming, because we hadn’t seen him in months. We waited for him to do the holiday shopping together and spend the last week of the holiday together.When we saw him, it was a very happy moment. We hugged him, and then we all went inside. My grandparents were also waiting for him because they loved him very much, and he always looked after them and took care of everything they needed. We spent Saturday and Sunday together, and those were two happy days. My mother made the iftar meal and we ate together.On Saturday night, 14 March 2026, at around 11:00 P.M., after my father, my brothers and I went to pray the Tarawih prayer at the village mosque, we decided to go to Nablus to buy things for the holiday. My mother, all my brothers and I got into the family car, and we drove off. We were very happy that my father was with us and that he would be staying with us for the coming days of the holiday.When we reached Nablus, we went to City Mall, which is a new mall that opened there. We spent some time there, ate and drove around the city. We were going to buy clothes too, but at about 1:00 A.M. we decided to go home because it was late. I agreed with my father that we would go back the next day to buy me new clothes. I didn’t want to burden him, especially because he worked far away from us, inside Israel.We left Nablus and headed home to Tammun. The drive together was fun. We were all talking and laughing together. At about 1:30 A.M., we entered Tammun from the south-western entrance and continued driving home. We didn’t hear about anything unusual and didn’t know there were soldiers in the area.I was sitting behind my father’s seat, my brother Mustafa was sitting behind my mother’s seat, my brother Muhammad was sitting in the middle, and my mother was holding my brother ‘Othman, who is blind and has special needs, in the front seat.We kept driving through the center of town, and then, just after we turned off into a street, I saw laser lights behind us and soldiers suddenly started shooting at us. They probably came out of an alley nearby. Before that, we didn’t know there were soldiers there, and we didn’t see them. I didn’t hear any soldier call out to my father to stop before they started shooting. The car windows were open, and we didn’t hear anything except the shots.They fired tens of bullets at us. I thought I was the only one still alive in the car. My mother was covered in blood. She screamed and then went quiet, and I realized she was dead. My father was dying inside the car, reciting the Shahadatein [the declaration of faith usually recited before death], and my brothers weren’t moving at all. I thought I was the only one still alive, because when the shooting started I ducked behind my father.After a few seconds, the soldiers came over and opened the car door. They grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out. My brother Mustafa got out of the car on his own and put his hands on his head. The soldiers took me a few meters away and asked me who was in the car. I answered: my father, my mother and my brothers. Then one of them slapped me and told me I was lying. He asked who else was in the car. I told them it was just my family. They threw me on the ground and hit me on my back. They threatened me that if they found anyone else in the car, they would kill me. Then they said: “You’re Yamen. You’re lying.” At first, I didn’t even understand who Yamen was. Later, I understood they were looking for a boy called Yamen, who’s about 15.They made Mustafa and me sit down by an iron gate and opened the car doors, so we could see the bodies of our whole family, our father, mother and brothers, covered in blood.After a few minutes, an ambulance drove up from the east. The soldiers showed me where to go, and I went to the ambulance, which took Mustafa and me to the Turkish Hospital in Tubas. I don’t know what happened to the car and to my family’s bodies after that.The moments of the shooting were terrifying and painful. My father was shouting, my mother was shouting. I went into shock and was injured by fragments in different parts of my body. Later, at the hospital, they found that my brother Mustafa and I were lightly wounded.We were discharged from the hospital at around 10:00 A.M., and we went to the funeral of our family, our father, mother and brothers. I already knew they were dead, because I saw everything inside the car. They weren’t moving at all.They killed my father, my mother and my brothers. We didn’t do anything, and we didn’t even know there were soldiers in the area. They killed them in cold blood.Now it’s just Mustafa and me. We’re orphans now and have no one except our grandparents.I keep asking myself: what did we do to threaten the soldiers, that they shot us like that? We were driving on the road, and there was nothing unusual. We were driving slowly, but they shot at us with no warning at all.We were so happy that my father was back. My mother was happy, and so were my brothers. We played, laughed and were glad that we’d be able to celebrate the holiday together – us, our grandparents and the whole family.But our lives are ruined. Our whole family was killed, and now my little brother and I are all alone, and we don’t know how we’ll go on living without our parents.Despite the pain, I thank God for everything.Khaled and Mustafa’s grandmother, and ‘Ali Bani ‘Odeh’s mother, Najah’ Bani ‘Odeh, 63, and a mother of 10, recounted the following on 24 March 2026:My son ‘Ali, God rest his sole, was married and a father of four children. He worked in Israel to support his family. ‘Ali was a generous man who gave himself to anyone in need, even at the expense of his own time and health.I spoke to ‘Ali all the time. In the last few months, he didn’t come home and stayed at workplace in Israel. Whenever he was there, I would worry because of the police, and I was nervous something bad would happen to him, but I never imagined that he would be killed with his wife and two children.When ‘Ali would call me, he would always ask me to bless him, and he’d say that my prayers make him feel safe. He would turn on the video camera and show me where he lived, that he was somewhere safe, to reassure me. He would say to me: “I want to work so that I can make life easier for dad, who raised us, and who’s now old and tired.”He came home about a week before the end of Ramadan, arriving before the evening prayer. His wife, kids and I waited for him. They came to our place and then went home to rest. The next night we ate together; we had sweets, felt happy, spent time together and joked around.Then, ‘Ali went to see friends and relatives he hadn’t seen in a long time, and then he went to get a haircut. After that, at around 11:00 P.M., he took the kids, who were waiting for an outing, even though he and his wife Wa’d didn’t really want to go since it was already late. I pressed him to do it for his kids, who had waited so long for him and were so excited and happy and wanted to buy new clothes for the holiday.Everyone got dressed, and ‘Ali picked up ‘Othman, who is blind, and carried him in his arms. Before they left, he asked me and his father if we needed anything from Nablus, and we told him to buy whatever the kids needed.At around 1:30 A.M., I woke up to take some medicine because my hand was hurting, and then I saw my son ‘Omar open the door and pick up the phone. I got up, panicked, and he told me there were special forces in Tammun. I asked where ‘Ali was, and I started worrying about him and his family. He said that ‘Ali and his family hadn’t come home yet.I called them, but they didn’t answer, and then ‘Omar told me that the army was shooting at a car. I told him they were shooting at ‘Ali’s car, because they always answer my calls. But ‘Omar said it was other people, and he even gave me their names.I couldn’t calm down. I was very tense; I felt that something had happened to ‘Ali and his family. Suddenly, ‘Omar started screaming and saying that it was ‘Ali’s car.A month earlier, I’d said that if anything happened to ‘Ali, it would be a disaster for me. I’d always had a feeling that something would happen to him. I’d call him all the time to make sure he was okay, and he’d turn on the video camera to reassure me.I asked ‘Omar where they were, and he told me they were at the hospital in Tubas. I asked my son-in-law to take me there in his car. I arrived a few minutes later and saw Mustafa and Khaled, ‘Ali’s sons. I saw blood on their clothes and asked if they were injured. Khaled and Mustafa told me the blood belonged to Muhammad, who had been next to them when he was killed. I was stunned by the tragic news. Khaled told me how the soldiers had fired at the car and that he ducked, which is why he wasn’t hit. He told me how ‘Ali recited the Shahada and how Wa’d screamed, and everyone was killed.I told him, “Your dad will be okay.” I hoped they were still alive, because they hadn’t been brought to the hospital yet. But half-an-hour later, they were brought in, and they were all dead. They were put in refrigerators. There were many bullet marks on their bodies, especially on the right side of their faces. And there was a lot of blood. When I saw ‘Ali and Muhammad, his wife Wa’d wasn’t yet there, and I hoped she was still alive, but later it turned out she was in a fridge nearby, along with ‘Othman.I couldn’t believe what had happened. Even after seeing their bodies, I found it hard to believe. They shot my son and his family and killed them. My son and his children had gone to spend a few hours in Nablus and buy things for the holiday. ‘Ali even gave his brother money and asked him to give it to my sisters and parents, as if he sensed he was about to die with his family.That’s what happened.We buried him in Tammun. We’ll take care of Khaled and Mustafa, my dear son’s sons. The army shot at them even though they knew there was a family in the car. ‘Ali wanted to spend the holiday with us and then go back to work, but the occupation prevented him from doing so. He wasn’t a wanted man; he was just a laborer who went to work to feed his family, but the occupation took ‘Ali, Wa’d, and their children away from us forever.‘Abd a-Latif Bsharat, 68, whose home was raided by soldiers shortly before the shooting, recounted the following on 17 March 2026:The soldiers entered our home at around 1:15 A.M. They opened the main entrance, the sliding gate, and then blew up the main door to the building. It’s a two-story building: I live on the ground floor with my wife, and our son, who is married, lives on the upper floor.My wife and I woke up in a panic. She asked, “What’s all this dust and dirt inside the house?” I told her, “It’s not dust or dirt, it’s glass. The soldiers blew up the door.”Immediately after that, the soldiers went up to my son’s unit (we later realized he had been in the shower at the time.) He got dressed quickly and went out. My wife went straight upstairs to our son’s house, but a minute later I saw two soldiers holding her and leading her away, ordering her to come down to the ground floor. They brought her back into our apartment.As I stood in place, one of the soldiers, some of them were masked, said to me, “Give me your hands.” I told them in Hebrew, “But I’m an elderly man, and I’m sick, too.” I’ve had more than six back surgeries, and I also have metal plates in my back. Despite that, he shoved me, knocked me down onto the couch, and handcuffed me. He took a blanket that was in the house and put it over my head, covering my face.My wife pulled the blanket off my head and told them, “My husband is sick; he’s about to die.” Then another soldier came in, took the tablecloth that was on the table, and put it over my wife’s head, but she pulled it off.After they handcuffed my wife as well, they locked us in one of the rooms, and all the soldiers went up to my son’s house. I didn’t know what they were doing there, but later he told me that they opened the windows, took them apart, took down the curtains, and used some of the cabinets as protective barriers next to the windows.They stayed in our house for about an hour, and the entire time, my wife and I were locked in the room and handcuffed with zip ties. When they left, they left us in the room and walked out without saying a word to us. I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life. They left me handcuffed in the room and walked out.Later, our son freed us from the locked room. He told us they had left, untied my wife’s hands, and then she untied mine.After they left, we heard from other people and social media that the army had fired at a vehicle. I saw many people going to where it happened, which was very close to my house, about 15 meters away. My son went out there, and when he came back, he told us that soldiers had shot at the Bani ‘Odeh family, who were driving in their car, and that there were children inside.This is an immoral army. This army is inhumane. They don’t care that I’m an elderly, sick person. They treated me violently. They didn’t ask me anything, nor did they ask my son anything. It was simply a rampage inside my home and my son’s home. They stayed at our place for a long time. We feared for our lives.Maryam Bsharat (Bani Odeh), 42, a mother of four, including Yaman Bani ‘Odeh, whom the forces arrested that evening, recounted on 17 March 2026:We live on the second floor of a two-story building, not far from where the soldiers fired at the Bani ‘Odeh family’s car.That night, around 1:00 A.M., I was woken up by gunfire and banging on the door on the first floor. I heard soldiers asking the people on the first floor, “Where’s Maryam?” After that, I heard gunfire in the area south of my house. I got dressed quickly and looked out the window. I was with my daughters, and we were all shaking in fear.Less than two minutes later, the soldiers broke down the iron door in a frenzied and barbaric manner and entered my house with a dog. They started yelling at us and cursing us. They ordered all of us to sit in one room, except for my eldest daughter, Nasmah, who is 18, and a first-year university student; they started interrogating her in another room. After that, one of the officers spoke to me and asked me about my son, Yaman. I told him he was young, in ninth grade, and that he wasn’t home. He started cursing at him, cursing God, and yelling at me, “Don’t talk, don’t talk.” Nasmah heard this, because the room where they were holding her is next to the one I was in, and she told the soldier she wanted to see what was happening with her mom in the other room. The soldier pounced on her and tried to pull her hijab off her head. I told her not to speak.The soldiers told me to call Yaman. My daughter called him and told him to come. They stayed there for over an hour, waiting for Yaman to arrive.While they were waiting for him, they broke and destroyed everything in the house: housewares, kitchenware, bedding, and other things. They even stepped on copies of the Quran. The whole time, they kept cursing at us. The soldiers also took my ID card and my wallet. They pointed their rifles at my kids to intimidate them. At some point, I tried to go to the room where they were interrogating Nasmah, and one of the soldiers, who spoke Arabic, told me to back off and threatened me: “I’m going to shoot your oldest daughter right in front of your eyes.” After that, he struck Nasmah in the leg from below with his rifle and broke her foot. Nasmah fell to the floor. He also struck my youngest daughter, who is 11, on the shoulder with his rifle. He yelled at us and the children, “Shut up!”Later, Yaman came home, and the soldiers handcuffed him outside, led him into the house, and then interrogated him inside. They asked him about leaflets and posters that were in the house. I saw my son with handcuffs on his wrists and a blindfold over his eyes, and they bent his back toward the floor. Then they left the house and took Yaman with them.I lost one of my sons, Rayan, a year ago. I’m afraid they’ll do something to Yaman, too.The Killing of Sam Abu Haikal, seven months old, Hebron, 5 June 2026:On the evening of Friday, 5 June 2026, the Abu Haikal family, Fahed, 40; his wife, Dania Salama-Abu Haikal, 28; their seven-month-old son Sam; Fahed’s son from a previous marriage, Kinan, 12; and Fahed’s mother, Firyal, 80, were traveling from Bethlehem to Hebron. They were on their way to Firyal’s home in the city’s Tel Rumeidahh neighborhood, after she had visited them in Bethlehem.Tel Rumeidah is in Area H2, which is under Israeli control. Most of Hebron’s Jewish settlements are concentrated in the neighborhood. This part of the city is under tight Israeli military and police control, with dozens of roadblocks and staffed checkpoints, inspection points and frequent patrol, used, in part, to enforce extreme restrictions on Palestinians’ freedom of movement, impeding access to homes, workplaces and services.As the vehicle approached the Wadi al-Hiriyah area, located about one kilometer north of the Tel Rumeidah archaeological site, the family members noticed unusual movement of military vehicles. They drove on, and shortly after 7:30 P.M., when they reached the intersection known as Junction/Checkpoint 17, named after a Palestinian Authority checkpoint that had previously operated there, they came across several soldiers blocking the road. One of the soldiers aimed his firearm at the vehicle and activated the laser sight. Fahed, who was driving the car, slowed down immediately, but less than 30 seconds later, without any warning, the soldier fired at least two bullets at the car. One penetrated the windshield, hit Fahed’s right hand, and then struck the head of infant Sam, who was sitting on his mother’s lap in the back seat. Bullet fragments struck his mother, Dania, in her right jaw and chest.The shots were fired directly at the vehicle from a distance of only about 20 meters, from which it was clearly visible that the passengers were a family, including women and children. The soldiers left scene immediately after the shooting, and the family members were taken in another car that was at the scene to ‘Aliya Hospital in Hebron. Dania and Sam were later transferred to Al-Ahli Hospital in the city. Physicians attempted to resuscitate Sam, unsuccessfully, but he was not pronounced dead until 10:00 P.M. that evening, when his mother’s condition stabilized. Sam’s body was brought to his mother the next day so she could say goodbye to him. Dania remained in the intensive care unit for five days.B’Tselem field researcher Manal al-Ja’bari collected the family’s testimonies.Firyal Abu Heikal, Sam’s 80-year-old grandmother and mother of 10, recounted the following on 7 June 2026:I live in the Tel Rumeidah neighborhood of Hebron with my son Wadi’, who is 39. I used to work in the education system. For decades, my family and I have suffered from the occupation’s abuses and settler attacks, as well as attempts to drive us off of our land. This suffering has worsened since 7 October: The road leading to our home has been blocked with concrete blocks to prevent vehicles from passing. Additionally, the Israeli authorities and settlers have completely taken over our land, which has olive trees, and have prevented us from accessing it or harvesting the olives for three years now.My son Fahed moved to Bethlehem two years ago after marrying Dania Salama. Seven months ago, they had a son, Sam. Fahed also has another son, Kinan, who’s 12, from a previous marriage. Kinan’s mother lives in Hebron, and he divides his time between his father’s home and his mother’s home.On 4 June 2026, at around 7:00 P.M., Kinan celebrated graduating elementary school and moving on to middle school. His father, Fahed, came to attend the ceremony. After the celebration ended, Fahed invited me to spend two days at his home in Bethlehem, and I went with him. I decided to go home on Friday because Wadi’ was home alone, and I worried about his safety if there were attacks by settlers or raids by soldiers.Fahed drove me to Hebron, and his wife Dania, their son Sam, and his son Kinan joined us on the ride. I sat in the front seat next to Fahed, who was driving. Kinan and Dania sat in the back seat, and Sam was strapped into his car seat. When we reached the Wadi al-Hiriyah area in Hebron, we saw heavy military vehicle traffic and realized there were Israeli soldiers in the area. This was nothing out of the ordinary for us, as army infantry units often patrol there.We continued on our way home, taking the only road leading to my house in Tel Rumeidah. There’s no alternative route. Dania took Sam out of his car seat and held him on her lap as we neared my house. When we reached the intersection known as Checkpoint 17, near the Rizeq neighborhood, about 200 meters from my home in Tel Rumeidah, we saw four soldiers about 20 meters away from the car. One of them aimed his gun at us and activated the laser sight, and then, without any warning, and less than half a minute after we arrived at the scene, he fired two shots at us.I didn’t understand what was happening around me until I heard Dania scream, “They killed my son! Sam is gone!” I opened the car door, and the soldiers had already fled the scene after shooting at us. I started screaming and calling for help. Dania also got out of the car, her face covered in blood, and Sam lying motionless in her arms, bleeding from his face. Fahed also got out of the car, his right hand bleeding.Many people began to gather at the scene, and Fahed, carrying Sam, got into a car that was there, along with Dania and Kinan, and they were evacuated from the scene. I stayed sitting on the road, completely devastated and unable to stand on my own two feet. A Palestinian ambulance that arrived at the scene took me to ‘Aliya Governmental Hospital.Fahed and his family were also taken there, and later Dania and Sam were transferred to Al-Ahli Hospital. Later that night, the doctors pronounced Sam dead.His brother, Kinan, is suffering from severe trauma, deep grief, and a mental breakdown following the loss of his little brother, whom the soldiers killed right before his eyes. To this day, I still can’t believe what happened. It feels like a terrible nightmare. What sin could a seven-month-old baby have committed?We might have imagined that the soldiers would stop the vehicle, detain the driver, humiliate him, and even attack him. But we never imagined that they would open fire on us to kill us for no reason at all, without us posing any danger to them.Sam’s mother, Dania Salama, 28, recounted the following on 7 June 2026:I live in Bethlehem with my husband, Fahed, 40, and my son Sam, who is seven months old. I’m a lecturer at Palestine Ahliya University, and my husband also works as a lecturer at the same university. I’ve been married to Fahed for two years. Seven months ago, our son Sam was born, filling our lives with love and joy.On Thursday, 4 June 2026, we hosted my mother-in-law, Firyal Abu Heikal, 80, for dinner at our home in Bethlehem. My husband brought her from Hebron after attending the graduation ceremony at the school of his son Kinan, 12, from his first marriage.On Friday afternoon, my mother-in-law decided to return to her home in Hebron because she was worried about her son, Wadi’, who lives with her in the Tel Rumeidah neighborhood, which is a closed-off area that suffers from daily military raids and settler attacks. I decided to join my husband, his mother, and his son Kinan to accompany her to Hebron.We arrived in Hebron in the evening and drove down Wadi al-Hiriyah Street, the only road leading to my mother-in-law’s home in Tel Rumeidah. When I saw we were approaching the house, I took Sam out of his car seat and held him on my lap, getting ready to get out of the car. At around 7:30 P.M., we reached Junction 17, near the Rizeq neighborhood, and saw four soldiers about 10 meters away from the car. One of them aimed his gun at us and fired at the car, I think two or more shots. One of the bullets went through the windshield on the driver’s side and hit my husband’s right hand. It then struck my son Sam’s left cheek, below his eye, exited through his right cheek, and fragments from it hit my right cheek and chest. I didn’t pay any attention to my own injury, because I was in shock at the sight of the blood covering my son Sam’s face; he wasn’t moving. I started screaming: “Sam’s dead! Sam’s been killed!”My husband got out of the car, bleeding from his right hand. He took the baby from me and ran with him toward a car, and Kinan and I ran after him. At the same time, my mother-in-law was sitting on the ground, hysterically screaming for help from the residents who had gathered there. The soldiers fled immediately after the shooting.The private car took us to ‘Aliya Governmental Hospital, and from there we were transferred to Al-Ahli Hospital. At that point, I still didn’t know that my son Sam had been killed. They admitted me to the ICU, and the doctors chose not to operate on me because the fragments were too close to the main artery leading to my heart. They also treated my right cheek, which had also been injured by fragments.It wasn’t until the next morning that I found out my son had been killed. They brought him to me in the ICU so I could say goodbye to him.They killed my little boy and set my heart on fire. They killed my dreams of seeing him grow and thrive. They robbed me of my motherhood.I can’t imagine how I’ll be able to go home without my son. He was the source of joy in our home, the one who made us forget our fatigue and hardships. How can I go on living without his crying and his laughter?I keep asking myself: Why did the soldier shoot? Why did he want to kill us? Why did they take my son away from me?Despite the pain I feel, and even though the doctors warned me against visitors because of my serious medical condition, I didn’t refuse to meet any journalist or representative of a human rights organization who came to my bedside. I want the whole world to know: The Israeli army killed my baby boy, who was only seven months old and had done nothing and was guilty of nothing.
On Wednesday, 28 December 2025, at around 7:20 P.M., Qays ‘Allan, 20, from the village of ‘Einabus in Nablus District, drove three of his friends in his car. The four young men drove toward ‘Allan’s home, which is in the western part of the village, and stopped at a grocery store along the way to buy snacks and soft drinks.When they were about 500 meters away from the house, a bright light suddenly shone on them from the other side of the road, as though someone were signaling to them with a flashlight. ‘Allan slowed down and was about to stop the car, when it suddenly came under fire, with about seven to eight rounds shot at them. ‘Allan was hit in the head. His head dropped onto the steering wheel and the car swerved to the right, hit a masonry fence on the side of the road, bounced to the other side of the road, hit an electric pole and stopped. Throughout this entire time, even after the driver lost control and the car crashed into the fence and the electric pole, the soldiers continued to fire dozens more shots at them.‘Allan was killed, most likely instantly, and his three friends sustained gunshot wounds. Ibrahim ‘Abdallah, 17, was injured in the abdomen and right foot. Yazan Rashdan, 20, sustained a bullet wound to the arm and fragment wounds to his back. M., 20, was lightly wounded by shrapnel.The soldiers forcibly pulled the three wounded men out of the car, dragged them along the ground for about 20 to 30 meters, beat them and stripped them. One of the soldiers beat Rashdan with his gun, and other soldiers kicked him. ‘Abdallah was also beaten. His head was slammed against a jeep, and then the soldiers kicked him hard in the abdomen, near the site of his gunshot wound, aggravating the injury.An ambulance arrived within a short while, and two of the wounded persons, ‘Abdallah and Rashdan, were put inside. When the paramedics tried to drive away, the soldiers held them up for several minutes, demanded to see the ID cards of the two wounded, and, when they could not find one of them, took a photo of him for identification purposes and only then allowed the ambulance to drive to Rafidya Hospital in Nablus. The third friend, M., was taken to the same hospital in another ambulance. He was discharged that same day. One of the paramedics stated that when he arrived at the scene, he saw ‘Allan’s car on fire.After that, the soldiers left the spot, taking ‘Allan’s body with them.Following the incident, the military issued a statement saying that “a report came in of a terrorist who attempted to run over IDF troops operating in the ‘Einabus area in the Samaria Brigade district. The troops responded with fire and killed the terrorist.” However, as in many other cases, the soldiers recklessly used lethal fire against civilians who were simply driving on the road leading to their village, even though they slowed down in response to the light flashed at them, as any person would be expected to do in such a situation.This incident is part of a pattern of similar events between December 2025 and March 2026. For example, on 15 March 2026, undercover Border Police officers fired dozens of bullets at the Bani ‘Odeh family’s car without warning, killing both parents and two of their children, ages five and six, and then beat one of the two children who survived the gunfire. On 10 January 2026, in Hebron, Shaker Ja‘bari was fatally shot in front of his daughter and grandchildren, who were with him in the car, after he slowed down when he noticed soldiers walking in front of him. In another incident in Hebron, on 6 December 2025, Israeli soldiers fired at Ahmad a-Rajabi’s car, killing him and a bystander. The soldiers called out to a-Rajabi to stop after he had driven past them in his car, and he backed up to come back to them, but one of the soldiers then fired into the air. A-Rajabi panicked, stepped on the gas pedal again, lightly hit the soldier who was trying to open the car door, and then the soldiers opened heavy fire that killed him and Abu Dawood, a sanitation worker who happened to be there. These cases illustrate a recurring pattern of lethal gunfire at innocent civilians, including children, who posed no threat whatsoever to Israeli forces, without any justification.B’Tselem field researcher Salma a-Deb’i collected the testimonies of two of the wounded persons and the paramedic who took them to the hospital:Yazan Rashdan, 20, from the village of ‘Einabus:On Wednesday, 31 January 2025, at around 7:20 P.M., two friends of mine, Qays ‘Allan and M., and I were helping our friend, Ibrahim ‘Abdallah, with maintenance work in his house, which is near my home in the center of the village of ‘Einabus. When we finished, the four of us left in Qays’s car. The car is unregistered and he uses it only inside the village.We drove toward Qays’s house, in the western part of the village, to spend the evening there. M. sat next to Qays in the front passenger seat, and Ibrahim and I sat in the back seat. On the way, we stopped by a grocery store to buy snacks and soft drinks, then went back to the car and continued driving toward Qays’s house.When we were about 400 to 500 meters away from Qays’s house, we were suddenly surprised by a light about 20 to 30 meters away from us. It looked like someone was standing there signaling to us with a flashlight, but we couldn’t see him clearly. He was standing on the other side of the road, on the left. Qays slowed down and when he was almost at a stop, we were suddenly fired at. I heard seven or eight shots. I didn’t understand what was happening, but I saw Qays drop his head onto the steering wheel, and the car swerved sharply toward the wall on our right.I heard heavy shooting and couldn’t see anything. I put my head down and crouched on the floor of the car to protect myself. The car stopped after it crashed into the wall on the right side of the road, and as I later found out, also hit a utility pole. Even so, the soldiers continued shooting at us, about 30 bullets. The windows shattered, and the noise was very loud. I kept my head down and shielded it with my hands. The car leaned over onto its right side.I heard Ibrahim shouting, but I didn’t hear M.’s and Qays’s voices, so I was sure they’d been killed. I couldn’t utter a word, I was so terrified. I didn’t understand what was happening, why all the shooting. We didn’t see any soldiers at all and didn’t know they were in the area. We saw only one person with a flashlight, and we couldn’t make him out either.Then the left door suddenly opened, and soldiers pulled Ibrahim and me out of the car. It was only then that I saw the soldiers. At first there were about five or six of them, and then more joined them. I didn’t see M. and thought he must be dead.The soldiers pulled me out forcefully, threw me to the ground and dragged me for about 20 meters. Then I noticed a military jeep arriving from the opposite direction. They put me next to the jeep, a few meters apart from Ibrahim and from M., who I thought was dead.The soldiers shouted at me and ordered me to put up my hands. I put up my hands. I was wounded in the arm and bleeding. One of the soldiers hit me on the head with his gun, and then he hit me again. I felt dizzy and almost passed out. I couldn’t say a word. I pretended to pass out so they’d stop beating me, but still, they kept kicking me for about three minutes.Then they moved away from me. I heard Ibrahim and M. shouting from the beatings they took from the soldiers. I stayed like that for about 10 minutes, and then a soldier came and stripped me, he lifted my shirt and pulled down my pants. I thought they wanted to check where I was wounded, but they did nothing and didn’t give me any medical treatment.After about 10 to 15 minutes, an ambulance came, and the soldiers put Ibrahim and me in it, but then they wouldn’t let it leave and demanded our ID cards. Ibrahim didn’t have one, so the soldiers refused to let the ambulance leave. In the end, after a few minutes, they let us go, after they took a picture of Ibrahim.The ambulance took us to Rafidya Hospital in Nablus, and M. arrived there in another ambulance shortly after us. The medical staff checked us, and it turned out that M. had been lightly wounded by several bullet fragments; Ibrahim was seriously wounded in the abdomen and was taken into surgery, and I was wounded in the arm and by fragments in my back.Later, I found out that Qays had been killed and that the soldiers had his body. I also found out that they torched the car. I don’t know why. I didn’t see it myself, but they probably set it on fire after they moved us away from it.Ibrahim ‘Abdallah, 17, a twelfth-grade student and a resident of the village, stated in his testimony:The soldiers opened the car door on the left side and pulled Yazan and me out. I didn’t see M. I thought he and Qays were dead, because they were both sitting in the front. The soldiers grabbed me forcefully and threw me out of the car, then dragged me by the legs, I think it was about 20 meters. They shouted at me, and one of them grabbed me by the neck and slammed my head against the jeep. Then he kicked me in the leg, and I fell. I tried to get up, but the soldiers kicked me again, and one of them hit me in the head with his gun. I felt dizzy and couldn’t see anything. Then he hit me in the chest with his gun and kicked me in the abdomen with his heavy shoe. I felt a sharp pain. I put my hand on my abdomen and felt something sticky and a lump on the side. I lifted my jacket and saw blood and intestines sticking out of the left side of my body. I didn’t even realize I’d been hit in the abdomen until then. Apparently, when the soldier kicked me in the abdomen, my intestines came out. I thought I was going to die from the injury and the blows. Here were my intestines spilling out of my abdomen. I smiled, even though I felt my soul was about to leave my body. I did it because I wanted to be smiling in my last moments. One of the soldiers grabbed me by the neck and tried to strangle me. I mustered all the strength I had at that moment and pushed him, but he stepped on my neck with his heavy boot until I almost choked. If another soldier hadn’t pulled him away, I’d be dead now.When the soldiers, about five or six of them, backed away from me, I saw Yazan on the ground, in his underwear, with several soldiers around him. Then they stripped me too. I didn’t understand why, maybe to see my injuries. At that moment, I heard the ambulance siren. Paramedics arrived and put Yazan and me into the ambulance. The soldiers asked the paramedic, in Hebrew, for my ID card. I told him it was at home. I understood that they did not want to transfer me until they got my ID card, but in the end, one of the soldiers took a picture of my face, and a few minutes later, they let us leave.The paramedics took us to Rafidya Hospital in Nablus. I found out that Yazan had been shot in the arm. I was taken into the operating room because it turned out that I had been wounded by a bullet that entered the side of my body and exited through my abdomen. Afterwards, they transferred me to the ICU, and I stayed there for a few days, and then they transferred me to the ward. I found out that same day that Qays had been killed and that the soldiers took his body on the pretext that he had tried to run over a soldier. When I heard that, I went mad. How can that even be? Does anyone think it makes sense that Qays planned to carry out an attack and that the three of us would go with him? It’s insane. We did nothing. They were the ones who fired at us. They didn’t give us a chance to stop at all. They immediately fired at us. Lethal fire. Maybe more than 40 bullets. Everything collapsed before our eyes. Later, I found out that they also burned the car. Why, I don’t know.The Red Crescent ambulance driver who evacuated Yazan ‘Allan and Ibrahim ‘Abdallah related in his testimony:On Wednesday, 28 December 2025, at around 7:30 P.M., we got a report from the communications officer at the Red Crescent branch in the town of Beita about a car being shot up in the village of ‘Einabus. We set out immediately, and when we reached the scene, in the western part of the village, we turned on the ambulance’s flashing lights and siren. We stopped about 150 meters away from the soldiers.I noticed a military jeep and about four to six soldiers. A young man was lying on the ground, and about 15 meters away from him, there were three other young men. I saw a car on fire.When we arrived, one of the soldiers signaled us not to come closer and ordered us to back up. I backed up very slowly. At that moment, another soldier, who appeared to be the officer, arrived and signaled me to move forward. I continued cautiously until I reached him. He said to me, “Look here,” and pointed at the young man who was lying on the ground.The medic who was with me in the ambulance and I quickly got out and went over to the wounded man. It appeared that he had sustained several injuries, including a head injury. I checked his pulse and breath, and there were no vital signs. I told the soldiers that he was dead and asked them to let me go over to the other wounded men.I went over to the three young men. One of them was wounded in the abdomen, and his intestines were outside; the second had minor injuries, and the third was wounded in the arm. I gave them quick first aid, and the other paramedic and I carried two of them into the ambulance. We wanted to get them out of there as quickly as possible, but the soldiers wouldn’t let me leave because they wanted one of the guys’ ID card, the one who was wounded in the abdomen.I told them that his condition was critical and that he had to be evacuated urgently to the hospital. One of the soldiers took a picture of him with his cell phone, apparently for identification. A few minutes later, they let us go. At that time, another ambulance arrived. It evacuated the third wounded man to Rafidya Hospital in Nablus, and I evacuated the other two there.
On Tuesday, 27 January 2026, at around 6:00 P.M., three military jeeps drove along a road near the old Halal market in the town of a-Dhahiriyah, Hebron District. Soldiers who got out of the vehicles set up an ambush in a yard with olive trees on one of the streets in the area. At about the same time, Muhammad Nasrallah, 17, and his cousin Hassan Nasrallah, 18, left to visit a friend who lives near the market. At around 8:00 P.M., they decided to go to Muhammad’s house. The two went their usual route, taking a shortcut via a dirt path, which ends at a stone wall separating it from the road. According to Hassan Nasrallah, the two did not know there were military forces in the area and did not see the soldiers, who were hiding among the olive trees on the other side of the street.Muhammad was first to climb over the stone wall, which is about three meters tall on the side of the dirt path and about one meter on the side of the street. According to testimonies collected by B’Tselem, as he was climbing, three or four shots were fired at him. One of the bullets struck him in the left side of the abdomen, and he fell on Hassan, who was still on the other side of the wall. Muhammad told Hassan that he had been wounded, but when Hassan lifted his shirt, he did not see the injury or any bleeding. Hassan tried to pull Muhammad up, but a soldier standing on the other side of the wall aimed his weapon at him and shouted at him. Knowing he would not be able to carry his cousin and fearing that the soldiers would shoot him too, Hassan ran toward the field. As he fled, the soldiers fired about eight shots at him, by his estimate, and two bullets hit his right leg. Despite his injury, he managed to escape into a nearby house. The occupants called in a local doctor, who bandaged Hassan’s leg, after which they took him to a hospital in the town. From there, he was transferred to ‘Aliya Hospital in Hebron.A little after 8:00 P.M., a Red Crescent ambulance arrived at the scene. The soldiers aimed their guns at the crew and ordered them to turn off the siren and approach Muhammad slowly. The driver got out of the ambulance first and climbed over the wall to reach Muhammad and give him first aid, while the paramedic brought a stretcher and other equipment from the ambulance. She asked for the soldiers’ help to transfer the stretcher and equipment over the wall, but they refused. Later, after the two paramedics had passed the equipment over and put Muhammad on the stretcher, they again asked the soldiers for help several times, until they finally relented and helped carry the stretcher over the stone wall. The paramedics rushed Muhammad to the medical center in a-Dhahiriyah, and from there he was transferred to the government hospital in Dura. He was taken into the operating room, but at around 10:00 P.M., the doctors were forced to pronounce him dead.The military claimed that “during an operational activity by IDF forces in the Dhahiriyah area of the Yehuda Brigade, the forces identified a terrorist throwing a Molotov cocktail at them. The fighters responded with live fire and killed the terrorist. In addition, another terrorist who threw stones at the forces was detected. The fighters responded with live fire, and a hit was identified. There were no casualties among our troops.” This claim is not only unfounded, as B’Tselem’s investigation indicates, but also illogical, because Israeli vehicles do not travel on this street at all and because the two were unaware of the soldiers’ presence in the area.This incident illustrates how the Israeli military continues to raid Palestinian communities, put civilians in danger without any justification, shoot pursuant to a reckless open-fire policy that enables the killing of Palestinians, including children, even when they pose no danger, and cover up such killings with false allegations that the victim was a “terrorist” who posed a threat to the forces.B’Tselem field researcher Manal a-Ja’bari collected the testimonies:Hassan Nasrallah, 18, related on 5 February 2026:I live in the Karam al-Ashqar area, southwest of the town of a-Dhahiriyah, with my parents and my brother Baraa, 25. I finished tenth grade in 2022 and then dropped out to join my father and learn car upholstery.On 27 January 2026, at around 6:30 P.M., my cousin Muhammad, 17, came to my house, and we decided to go to our friend who lives near me. Afterwards, at around 8:00 P.M., we decided to spend the rest of the evening at Muhammad’s house.We took the shortcut we always use when we visit each other, a dirt path that leads to the old Halal market. We didn’t know the Israeli military was raiding the town.When we got to the wall that separates the dirt path from the street, Muhammad climbed it first, and then I heard gunfire, and he fell on top of me. He said to me, “I think I’ve been hit, lift my shirt up.” I lifted his shirt, but couldn’t see where he was hurt. I tried to lift him up, and then I saw an Israeli soldier behind the wall, aiming his rifle at me and yelling at me. I couldn’t lift Muhammad. He slipped from my hands.I started running away, but the soldier shot me. I was hit by two bullets in my right leg, one below the knee and the other in the middle of the leg. Both bullets went through the muscle and exited on the other side. Luckily, they didn’t hit the bone.I managed to run into one of the nearby houses. The people living there called a doctor who lives close by. He bandaged the wound and stopped the bleeding. Afterwards, the people from the house took me to the Red Cross hospital in the town, and from there I was transferred to ‘Aliya Governmental Hospital in Hebron, where they ran tests and X-rays that confirmed two bullets had gone into my right leg.I didn’t find out Muhammad was killed and that the Israeli army said he threw a Molotov cocktail at the soldiers until after midnight. That claim is completely baseless. The soldiers were simply startled by Muhammad when he climbed the wall, while they were hiding among the olive trees on the other side, and they shot him for no reason. We had no idea there were soldiers there.The next day, I had surgery on my leg, and I stayed at ‘Aliya Hospital for eight days. I was discharged two days ago, but I’m still getting treatment at home. I’m still in shock from the incident and can’t find any reason why the soldiers shot us, especially since there were no clashes in the area at that time.Muhammad’s father, Rajeh Nasrallah, 49, father of seven, related on 5 February 2026:I live in the ‘Aqbat a-Tarshah area (the old Halal market) in the town of a-Dhahiriyah, with my wife and our seven children, including Muhammad, 17, who was the middle son in the family. Muhammad dropped out this year and started working in the car upholstery business with his cousin.On 27 January 2026, at around 6:00 P.M., we had dinner at home, and afterwards Muhammad went to his uncle’s house in the Karam al-Ashqar area, about 300 meters from our house, to hang out with his cousins, as he usually did. I rested at home after dinner, and after about an hour and a half, I went out to the market to buy vegetables.When I got to the greengrocer’s stand near the old Halal market, while I was choosing vegetables, three Israeli military jeeps suddenly drove in. I stopped and watched them for about 20 minutes, and then the jeeps left the area, and I thought all the forces had withdrawn. A few minutes later, I heard gunfire, about four single shots, followed by another burst of about eight bullets. I realized then that the jeeps also had ground forces with them that had set up an ambush in the area. The soldiers closed off the area, and I stood by the greengrocer’s stand watching what was happening.Right after the shooting, a Palestinian ambulance arrived, and the crew said they had received a report of casualties. I saw from a distance the medical crew carrying a wounded young man, who had been behind the wall, toward the sidewalk. The soldiers helped them put him on a stretcher, and they evacuated him from the area. It took about 15 minutes.A paramedic in the crew that evacuated Muhammad Nasrallah related on 8 February 2026:On 27 January 2026, at around 8:00 P.M., we received a report at the dispatch center about gunfire in the area of the old market (‘Aqbat a-Tarshah). My colleague, A., a paramedic, and I drove there in an ambulance and arrived in less than a minute, because the dispatch center is no more than 200 meters away.When we arrived, the Israeli military closed off the area and prevented civilians from reaching the casualties. We didn’t see the wounded, but we knew from residents that there were two injured people in the area. As soon as we arrived, the soldiers aimed their rifles at us, and one soldier came over to the ambulance. A. tried to step out of the ambulance to speak with the soldiers, but the soldier aimed his rifle at him and ordered him to get back into the ambulance and turn off the siren. A. complied with the soldier’s order, and then he allowed us to proceed slowly. We drove forward until they stopped us again, about 20 meters away from the wounded man, who was behind the stone wall. There were several soldiers in the area, and they were aiming their rifles at us. I was afraid they’d shoot us.A. and I got out of the ambulance, and A. rushed over to where the soldiers pointed. He asked me to bring the stretcher and equipment from the ambulance. He climbed the wall, which is about a meter high on the side of the road and about three meters on the other side. When he got to the other side, he saw a wounded young man lying on the ground, still alive. I rushed back to the ambulance and tried to lift the equipment and the stretcher, but they were heavy, and I couldn’t lift them alone. I asked the soldiers for help, but they refused. In the end, I managed to bring the equipment, but I couldn’t climb the wall to help A. or pass the stretcher down. I asked the soldiers to help me again, but they ignored me. I kept lifting and pushing the stretcher until I reached A., but he couldn’t lift the stretcher with the wounded man on it by himself. He asked the soldiers to help him, but again they refused. In the meantime, A. tried to give first aid to the wounded man, who still had a pulse at that point.About three minutes later, the officer who was there finally ordered two soldiers to help A. lift the stretcher and transfer the wounded man to the ambulance. We drove as fast as we could to the nearest medical center in town, knowing his condition was very serious. We reached the al-Hakim Center downtown, where an internal medicine doctor examined him and decided to rush him to the government hospital in the town of Dura. The doctor rode with us in the ambulance to the hospital in Dura. When we arrived there, the wounded man was still alive, but by the time we reached the emergency room, his heart had already stopped. The doctors tried to resuscitate him and then quickly transferred him to the operating room, but about half an hour later, they had to pronounce him dead.While we were at the scene, we understood from the soldiers that there was another wounded person who had fled toward nearby houses. Later, I found out that the second wounded person was the victim’s cousin and that he had been evacuated by car to al-Ahli Hospital in Hebron. The soldiers deliberately delayed medical assistance to the young man we evacuated. It took us about 15 minutes to evacuate him from the scene from the moment we arrived there, enough time for him to die.Muhammad’s father, Rajeh Nasrallah, described the moment he learned his son had been wounded:Later, I heard from residents that the wounded person’s name was Muhammad Nasrallah. I was horrified and meant to call my brother to ask whether Muhammad and his cousin Hassan were with them, but he called me first. He said that soldiers had shot Muhammad and Hassan when they were on their way to our house. He told me that Hassan had been wounded and was hiding in a nearby house, and that Muhammad had been evacuated by ambulance to the government hospital in Dura.I was in shock and very anxious, and I asked a friend to drive me in his car to the hospital in Dura. When I got there, I saw several relatives and friends of Muhammad’s. They looked pale and sad, and I realized his condition was very serious. I asked the doctors if he had died, but no one answered me, and everyone tried to reassure me. At around 10:00 P.M., the doctors informed us that Muhammad had died.I could not believe it really happened until I went into the room and saw Muhammad. The doctors said he had been shot in the side of his body, and that the bullet had entered his abdomen and caused severe damage to his internal organs.The next day, after the noon prayer, we buried Muhammad, heartbroken. The incident occurred when the area was very quiet and there were no clashes at all. No one even knew there were soldiers around. They were apparently hiding among the olive trees on the other side of the street.
