Rida ‘Ali Ahmad Bsharat, 8, and his cousin, Hamzah ‘Amer Ahmad Bsharat, 10, Tammun, Tubas District, 8 January 2025

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On Wednesday, 8 January 2025, around 6:00 A.M., Israeli forces raided the city of Tubas, the town of Tammun and the village of al-’Aqabah in the northern Jordan Valley. In al-’Aqabah, the forces arrested two young men in their home. In Tubas, they surrounded a house and, after apparently failing to arrest the person they were looking for, arrested his brother in order to pressure him to turn himself in.

During the raid on Tammun, clashes developed between the forces and Palestinian armed operatives in the southern and eastern areas of the town. Around 10:00 A.M., an Israeli aircraft fired a missile that killed three cousins, two of them children, by their home: Adam Bsharat, 23, Hamzah Bsharat, 10, and Rida Bsharat, 8. About 10 minutes after the airstrike, Israeli forces arrived and forced relatives of the deceased away from the spot and into a house. They then took blankets from the house, wrapped the three bodies in them and took them away. The bodies were returned to the family later that day via the Palestinian DCO.

An investigation released by the military about three weeks later stated that the aircraft identified the young man and two children killed as individuals who planted IEDs. The military claimed this identification was based on intelligence information, but ultimately no IEDs were found at the scene. The investigation stated that “the identification process during the incident made it difficult to determine that they were minors.”

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B’Tselem field researcher Salma a-Deb’i collected testimonies on 29 January 2025

Rida Bsharat’s mother, Fidaa Bsharat, 41, a mother of five, said in her testimony:

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On 8 January 2025, I got up around 6:00 A.M. and made breakfast. I woke the children so they could get ready for school. Then Iman told me school was out because of the army raid.

At about 8:30 A.M., I went with my eight-year-old son, Rida, to visit my sister-in-law Iman. Rida and Iman’s 10-year-old son Hamzah, played together for a while, and then went out to play in a small yard between the houses where they often play. My sister-in-law and I chatted in the meantime. We could hear the hum of a drone in the background. We’re used to that sound, especially during army raids.

Around 9:30 A.M., I left Iman’s house and went home. On the way, I saw Rida and Hamzah playing. Adam was sitting next to them, looking at his phone. The moment I went into the house, I heard a terrifying explosion that shook the entire area. I immediately went back outside and saw my sister-in-law Iman and my sister-in-law ‘Abla, Adam’s mother, standing next to the children, who were lying on the ground covered in blood. I went over and picked up my son. He was bleeding from his head and neck, and he was groaning. I shouted for an ambulance, and suddenly soldiers showed up. One of them said in Arabic that they would give him first aid. The soldiers made ‘Abla and her kids, Ubay and Israa, who came after being woken up by the explosion, back away.

I kept on holding my son, but I knew he was dead. Soon after, the soldiers brought blankets from ‘Abla’s house and covered the three bodies. They didn’t try to give them first aid or even check them. It was clear they were dead. They took them away on stretchers. It was about 10:30 A.M. After that, the army left the area. In the afternoon, the three bodies were handed over via the Palestinian DCO at the Taysir checkpoint. We held their funeral after evening prayers, and they were buried in the village cemetery.

Rida was our only son. He was born after four daughters. He was the prince of his class and our spoiled boy. He always wanted us to visit Jerusalem, but we couldn’t because of the situation. He used to say to me: “I’ll buy a car and take you to Jerusalem and buy you anything you want.” He was very attached to me and would always kiss my hands and head. Even though he was still young, his thinking was much more developed than his friends. I felt like he was my friend. Every day, I feel him slipping further and further away from me. God, it’s so hard, so unbearable and scary to think he’s not coming back. They took him from me, from his sisters, from his home. He didn’t do anything. He died only because one of the soldiers made a mistake, or maybe wanted to kill a Palestinian, whether he was a senior wanted person or just an armed operative. I could have been killed there, too. I passed by them a few seconds before the bombing.

Adam Bsharat’s mother, ‘Abla Bsharat, 49, a mother of six, said in her testimony:

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On 8 January 2025, I woke up around 5:30 A.M. I got my son Sa’id, 10, ready to leave the house, and he got on the bus to school at 6:45 A.M. Ubay, 16, who is in the 11th grade, didn’t go to school that day because classes were canceled due to the military presence in the area. I turned off Ubay’s phone and closed the windows so he could continue sleeping. I left around 9:00 A.M. to visit my sister ‘Abir. I invited my son Adam, 23, to have coffee with us after he loaded our electricity card [a prepaid card used to pay the electrical company].

I sat at my sister’s. When she served coffee, I told her Adam would be coming and she said we’d make another coffee when he came. Just then, we heard a huge blast that shook the house. We rushed outside to see what happened. I saw my sister-in-law Iman, 39, screaming for help and holding her son Hamzah, 10, who was covered in blood. I saw my son Ubay and my daughter Israa, 27, who had woken up and come out after hearing the explosion. I also saw a young man I didn’t recognize lying on the ground.

When I got closer, I saw it was my son Adam. He was gurgling and his head was lolling. I knew he was drawing his last breaths. I saw my sister-in-law Fidaa, 41, come and shout for an ambulance to help her son, Rida, 8. Suddenly, about 20 soldiers showed up, pointed their guns at me and forced me to back away from Adam. Ubay, Israa and I backed away about 20 meters and stood near my doorway. The soldiers looked surprised when they saw the dead children and Adam. They went into several home in the neighborhood, including Fidaa’s house, took out blankets and covered the three bodies with them.

The soldiers ordered us to get inside. I was shaking and in such a state of shock that I didn’t even cry. Ubay tried calling an ambulance. I was worried about him. All I wanted was to protect him so nothing would happen to him. I saw that he was in shock too. His face was yellow and he was gritting his teeth.

About 40 minutes after the bombing, the soldiers left and took the three bodies with them. Later, I found out they were transferred on stretchers and handed over to the Palestinian DCO at the Taysir junction. After that, all our neighbors, relatives and friends came to my house. I didn’t know how they’d heard about what happened. Meanwhile, the army left the village.

I couldn’t process what happened. I just prayed to wake up and find it was all a nightmare, but it was real. I lost my son Adam, my fourth son. He worked with his father in the Jordan Valley. He would usually be away from home for a week and then come back. I’m used to seeing him come back, but now he’s gone and won’t come back. They killed him in front of our house, before my very eyes. We’re all trying to hide our sadness from each other at home, but the house is silent. No one is talking. The talking and smiles have disappeared, and all I have left is the memories of Adam.

Adam came back from the Umrah [pilgrimage to Mecca] just two days before he was killed. He wasn’t planning on going back to work until next week, so he could rest and spend time with us. He said he’d missed us very much.

Not long ago, my husband started building a new house for us and for the children in a neighborhood in the village. Before Adam was killed, I was very excited about moving into it, but now I want to stay in this house. Every day, I sit next to the bloodstains he left behind, stare at the spot he was killed, and remember how I saw him bleeding on the ground next to his cousins. I don’t want anything from this life anymore. I don’t want anything except the memory of Adam.