Rida Mahmoud Kamal Bani ‘Odeh, 17, Tammun, Tubas District, 15 May 2025

On 15 May 2025, during a military raid on the town of Tammun, soldiers surrounded a three-story building in which armed Palestinians, including Rida Bani ‘Odeh, had barricaded themselves, and fired shoulder missiles at it. In the ensuing fire exchange, Rida was killed along with four other Palestinians. During the operation, the Israeli forces destroyed a significant portion of the building, rendering it uninhabitable. At the end of the operation, as the Israeli military has done in other cases, Bani ‘Odeh’s body was scooped into the bucket of a military bulldozer, along with the bodies of three others, and driven through the streets of Tammun and nearby communities. According to the military, four Palestinians were arrested in the town and the nearby city of Tubas during the raid. Bani ‘Odeh was an Islamic Jihad military wing operative. 

Israel is holding his body.

Rida’s mother, Samaher Bani ‘Odeh, 49, a mother of four, said in a testimony she gave B’Tselem field researcher ‘Aref Daraghmeh on 30 March 2026:

Image

On 14 May 2025, the day before he was killed, Rida came home and acted not like his usual self. He sat with me and other family members for hours. We felt like he was assessing everyone. He also went to visit his brother, talked a lot and asked a lot of questions. At some point that day, he told me he wanted to buy new pants, and I told him his father would go and buy them for him.

Rida always laughed and played with his sister’s children. He also loved taking photos with everyone. Most days, he’d go out and come back late in the evening, but that day, he stayed home all day. In the evening, he showered, put on new clothes and asked me: “How do I look in these clothes, Mom?” and I answered: “Masha’ Allah, you’re handsome and anything you wear will look good.” I was in the kitchen, looking at him, and I said, “Masha’ Allah,” I felt as though I was seeing him for the first time in a long while, and his face was glowing. Then he came over to me and said: “Look at me, am I handsome?” and started kissing me and hugging me. I took out his brother’s bottle of perfume and started spraying it on him, and he said to me: “That’s enough perfume, Mom.”

He went out after dinner, and I stood and watched him as if I were saying goodbye to him. I said to him: “May God protect you, my son.” I don’t know where he went that night. In the morning, I woke up very early to wake his father and fix him breakfast. Afterwards, before I went back to sleep, I turned on my phone, but I didn’t see anything about any occupation army activity or anything like that. Usually, hardly a week goes by without the occupation army raiding the Tammun area. I turned the phone off.

At about 7:00 A.M., I was still asleep. Then, my sister called and said that the army had raided the town and that special forces had laid siege to one of the houses, and suggested that if Rida wasn’t home, I should call to check if he was okay. I called him, but he didn’t answer. After that, I got more calls from relatives asking about Rida: “Is he home? Is he alright?” His brother Ashraf was still asleep. I woke him up and told him that the army had raided the town and that Rida wasn’t home, but he was not worried about it. He didn’t think anything would happen to him. Then I went to make breakfast for my son and my daughters, and Ashraf got a call and was told: “Pray for Rida.” Ashraf came over to me and said: “Mom, turn off the gas, turn off the gas, don’t make breakfast, I don’t want to eat.” He paced around the house restlessly and kept saying: “Pray for Rida, Mom.” I asked him: “Has something happened to Rida?” and he told me that Rida was with the young men in the house that the army was surrounding. I started to cry.

People started coming over and trying to comfort me. They told me that everyone was alright and that the young men would come out of the house. Then the news came that Rida had been killed. My son, who hadn’t turned 18 yet. An innocent boy with a tender heart who had all the beautiful qualities. I started blaming myself: Why didn’t I hug him when he went out? Why did I let him go? I started asking myself questions and talking to myself. I imagined that he would come back to me now, walk into the house. I kept looking at the door and at the windows. I saw him in every corner of the house and couldn’t stop crying. Only God knew what state I was in. But God, may He be exalted, took him and he was killed together with the others.

During the last ‘Eid al-Fitr before he died, we were together and spent beautiful days together, but this year, Rida wasn’t with us for the holiday. I cried a lot during the holiday. I couldn’t be happy.

Rida and the others were taken away, and their bodies are being held by the occupation. Every day I am tormented because of him, and every day I pray to God that they return his body to us. I want to kiss Rida and hug him. I want to embrace his grave, but the occupation is still holding his body. It’s as if he is being killed anew every day, because even his body is far away from me. I remember him every minute. I don’t know where he is now. The occupation has his body like the bodies of dozens of martyrs.

I appeal to all humanitarian organizations and to human rights organizations to intervene and help us get his body back and bury him. I am suffering. I am ill. I can’t live without seeing his body and burying it here in our land and going to his grave as if I were seeing him every day.

The news of his death was a shock to me, but I believe in God and in fate. I miss him terribly and want to hug him, or even just touch his grave. I look at the door every day as if waiting for him to come back to me again, and I say: “Rida has come and Rida has gone.” But to this day, I haven’t been allowed to bury him, which is the only way I can find some peace and feel that he’s still with us, even if it’s in his grave.