Jamil ‘Atef Jamil Hanani, 17, Beit Furik, Nablus District, injured on 2 November 2025, died on 3 November 2025

On 2 November 2025, soldiers entered the town of Beit Furik in Nablus District in three jeeps, and youths threw stones at them. A soldier who got out of one of the jeeps threw a stun grenade at the youths, and then turned around and fired at Hanani and his friends, who were standing on the street corner and were not taking part in the stone-throwing. Hanani was wounded in the abdomen and evacuated to the a-Sadaqa clinic across the street, and then soldiers raided the clinic. It was only after the soldiers left, a few minutes later, that Hanani was transferred to Rafidya Hospital in the city of Nablus, where he died of his wounds the next day.

B’Tselem field researcher Salma a-Deb’i collected testimonies from one of Hanani’s friends and from his father.

Hanani’s friend recounted on 5 November 2025:

I’m a student at Beit Furik High School. On Sunday, my friend Jamil Hanani, 17, came to visit me. At around 9:35 P.M., we left my house in the western part of the town and headed towards his house. When we reached the main road, near the a-Sadaqa clinic, we were surprised to see three military jeeps coming from the town center. We didn’t know whether to keep going or stop. We saw stones being thrown at them from the direction of the town center, and we were afraid to go through, so we took shelter between the buildings.

The jeeps stopped about 100 meters away from us. I decided to cross the road to the other side, not realizing, until I got there, that Jamil didn’t follow me and stayed standing on the sidewalk opposite. At that moment, a soldier got out of one of the jeeps, threw a stun grenade at the guys who were further down the street, then went around the jeep and stood facing the guys who were near the a-Sadaqa center, and fired. I heard only one shot. The guys ran inside and shouted: “Wounded, wounded.” I saw them carrying a guy and taking him into the medical center.

Immediately afterward, a few soldiers went into the medical center and then came out. A few minutes later, I heard the ambulance leaving the center, and the jeeps left town. It was only then that I found out that the wounded person was my friend, Jamil Hanani. He was shot in the abdomen. I wanted to visit him, but I was told his condition was very serious. Later I found out that he died.

Jamil’s father, ‘Atef Jamil Hanani, 56, a father of four, recounted on 16 March 2026:

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On Sunday, 2 November 2025, at around 6:00 P.M., I woke my son Jamil, who was asleep, and told him that his mother and I were going to visit his grandfather. I gave him a prescription and 50 NIS (~ 17.40 USD) to buy me medication at the pharmacy, and we went out.

When we were at my wife’s parents’ house, at around 9:30 P.M., I saw on social media that the military had entered the town. I called Jamil, but he didn’t pick up, and I thought he’d gone back to sleep.

At around 10:00 P.M., I got a call from the clinic in town informing me that my son Jamil had been wounded and taken to the hospital. I immediately went with my wife and relatives to the hospital in Nablus. I don’t know how we got there. I will never forget these moments. I looked for him all over the hospital until I was told that he was in the operating room and that he’d been hit by two bullets in the back and was seriously injured in the spine, internal organs and abdomen.

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They tried to reassure me and said he would survive, but from the atmosphere outside the operating room, and from the need for many blood units, I realized that his condition was serious. Lots of people came to the hospital, relatives, friends and town residents, and that only made the fear worse. I felt helpless. My son was inside, and I couldn’t do anything.

At around 1:00 A.M., the doctor came out and told us they’d managed to stop the bleeding and that he would be transferred to intensive care, but later, his heart stopped, and he didn’t make it. I was told it was the third time his heart had stopped. It was the hardest news I’ve ever received in my life.

Jamil was near the pharmacy on the main street, after he’d bought the medication and was about to cross the road on his way home. I found the medicine in his pocket, and the change, 17 NIS (~ 5.90 USD), and they are very precious to me because they are the last things he touched. I later understood that he was caught by surprise when the military was in the street and that they fired at him for no reason, other than the desire to shed blood. The soldiers didn’t do anything and didn’t arrest anyone. They just did a short patrol in the town’s streets, which ended with the killing of an innocent child, and then left right after. It’s as if they go out hunting, only they’re hunting human beings. To them, we’re nothing.

A few days later, I got a call from the Israeli police. One of them spoke to me in Arabic and said he wanted to know what happened. I said to him: Ask your soldiers why they killed my son. I don’t want anything; I only want to know why they killed him. They could have shot at his lower body; they could have arrested him, beaten him; they could have done anything but fire two lethal bullets at him. Why??

The police officer said he wanted to help me. I said to him: Then give me back my son. I don’t trust them. They don’t use judgment. They follow military orders that allow them to shed blood without taking any responsibility. On the contrary, whoever kills a Palestinian probably receives congratulations and a promotion. My heart is still burning over what they did to my son, and I can’t believe he is gone and will never return.

Jamil was a boy who was full of life. He loved soccer and basketball, and he’d rent a field with his friends, and also took part in tournaments in Nablus. He loved cars and dreamed of having a BMW. I named him after my father, Jamil, and he really was a beautiful child [as the meaning of the name in Arabic].

Since he died, our lives have changed. Every time I look at the children’s room, I feel that something is missing. Where is Jamil? How was he snatched from us, from his siblings?

My children cry all the time, and when they see their mother crying, they leave the house, especially his brother Muhammad, 16, who was close to him in age, and they were good friends and spent a lot of time together.

In the meantime, the month of Ramadan and ‘Eid al-Fitr have passed without him, and that was very hard. Every time I remember Jamil and the way he left us, I lose my mind, and when I see his bed empty while his brothers sleep in their beds, the pain clenches me. We go to visit him at the cemetery almost every day. I can’t be far from him, and I feel like my legs take me there without thinking.

They killed him without anyone being held to account. These soldiers don’t distinguish between adults and children. To them, we are all targets.

He wasn’t even spared the experience of detention. He came with me to work in the Tira area, inside the Green Line, after I couldn’t find work in the West Bank for a long time because of the economic crisis that gets worse by the day. I had no choice but to go to Israel to look for work, even without a permit. Jamil said to me: Take me to work with you in the summer; I’ll help you instead of sitting at home during summer break. And so he went with me. On the first day we worked, and on the second day, they raided the apartment where we were sleeping and arrested us. Jamil was sent to jail for 25 days, and I was sent for two months. Afterward, he told me that they beat him, and that in the minors’ ward in Hadarim Prison, during roll call, they made them lie on the ground and forced them to howl. On the day he was released from prison, they beat him and pepper-sprayed him. His mother told me that when he came out of detention, he was very thin. He went through this rough experience despite his young age, and criminal soldiers put an end to his short life. They don’t want any Palestinians alive. Since Ben Gvir took office four years ago, the situation has become very difficult, and the killing has been increasing for no reason. They kill and then make up excuses for their actions. In the Hebrew media, they said that a “terrorist” had been killed. How can an unarmed child be a terrorist? This is the height of madness and contempt for human life.

I keep asking myself: Why are our children not like the rest of the children in the world? Why do they go through these tough experiences? Why are they forced to go through military checkpoints and be subjected to abuse everywhere, on the roads, in the streets and in the neighborhoods? And even inside their homes, they’re not safe. At any moment, a soldier could break down your front door, drag you and your children out of your beds and terrorize you. You don’t feel safe anywhere; instead, you’re under constant threat, and you feel helpless, unable to protect your children.