He was the entire world.
On a Friday evening near Hebron, a seven-month-old boy named Sam Fahd Abu Haikal was shot and killed when Israeli soldiers opened fire on a car carrying him, his parents, and his grandmother — a vehicle the military later acknowledged held only uninvolved civilians. His death is one among more than a thousand Palestinian lives lost in the West Bank and east Jerusalem since October 2023, yet it arrives with the full weight of the irreplaceable: a child who had turned seven months old that same day, buried the following morning by his father. The incident unfolds within a decades-long architecture of occupation, contested land, and an accountability system that, by documented measure, rarely reaches the soldiers who pull the trigger.
- A bullet passed through a father's hand and into his infant son's face — a trajectory that the Israeli military, in its own initial inquiry, could only describe as a tragic misidentification of threat.
- The mother lies critically wounded with shrapnel near her heart; the father carried his son's flag-wrapped body to the grave the morning after.
- An Israeli rights group found soldiers were indicted in fewer than 1% of nearly 2,500 complaints over eight years, making accountability not the exception but a statistical near-impossibility.
- On the same day Sam was buried, eight more people were wounded in Huwara, and footage emerged of a soldier beating a Palestinian — the military said it was 'reviewing' the video.
- The UN counts over 1,000 Palestinians killed in the West Bank and east Jerusalem since October 2023, including at least 240 children, as the pace of violence continues to accelerate.
Sam Fahd Abu Haikal turned seven months old on a Friday. That same evening, near Hebron in the occupied West Bank, Israeli soldiers opened fire on the car in which he was travelling with his father — a Bethlehem University lecturer — his mother, and his grandmother. A bullet pierced the windshield, passed through the father's right hand, and struck the child in the face. The mother was critically wounded, shrapnel lodged near her heart. Sam died from his injuries.
The Israeli military said soldiers fired because they perceived the vehicle accelerating toward them. An initial inquiry acknowledged that all three Palestinians inside were uninvolved civilians. The father, Fahd Abu Haikal, described the moment with terrible clarity to the Associated Press: "He was the entire world." On Saturday, he carried his son's body — wrapped in a Palestinian flag — to a grave in Hebron.
The grandmother, who was also in the car, said they had stopped when they saw military vehicles in the distance. She thought the first shots were warning fire. "The scene was horrific," she said. "What kind of army in the world does this?" The father stood over the grave and said: "At the end they tell you it was a mistake."
The question of whether that acknowledgment will lead anywhere is answered, in part, by the numbers. The Israeli rights group Yesh Din examined 2,427 complaints of soldier wrongdoing filed between 2016 and 2024. Soldiers were indicted in fewer than one percent of those cases. Investigations happen; prosecutions almost never do.
Sam's death sits within a sharply deteriorating landscape. Since the Gaza war began in October 2023, the United Nations has recorded more than 1,000 Palestinians killed in the West Bank and east Jerusalem, among them at least 240 children. On the same Saturday Sam was buried, eight people were wounded in Huwara during clashes, and footage emerged appearing to show a soldier beating a Palestinian on the ground. The military said it was reviewing the video — a phrase that, in this context, carries its own kind of weight.
A seven-month-old boy named Sam Fahd Abu Haikal was shot and killed on a Friday evening near Hebron in the occupied West Bank. His father, Fahd Abu Haikal, a lecturer at Bethlehem University, was driving with his wife and son in the back seat when Israeli troops opened fire on their vehicle. A bullet pierced the windshield, passed through the father's right hand, and struck the child in the face. Another round hit the hood. The mother was critically wounded, with shrapnel lodged near her heart. The baby, who had turned seven months old that same day, died from his injuries.
The Israeli military said soldiers fired at the car because they perceived it accelerating toward them. In an initial inquiry, the military acknowledged that all three Palestinians in the vehicle were uninvolved civilians. The father described the moment with the precision of someone trying to make sense of the senseless: a bullet through glass, through flesh, through his hand, into his son. "He was the entire world," Fahd Abu Haikal told the Associated Press. The baby's body was wrapped in a Palestinian flag and buried in Hebron on Saturday. His father carried him to the grave.
The grandmother, Feryal Abu Heikal, was also in the car. She said they had stopped when they saw Israeli military vehicles and soldiers in the distance near a checkpoint. She initially thought the gunfire was warning shots. "The scene was horrific to see a seven-month-old baby with a smashed face," she said. "What kind of army in the world does this?" The father, standing over his son's grave, demanded justice. "At the end they tell you it was a mistake," he said.
This incident is not an outlier in the occupied territories. Since the war in Gaza began in October 2023, Israeli military activity and settler violence against Palestinians have intensified sharply. According to the United Nations, more than 1,000 Palestinians, including at least 240 children, have been killed in the West Bank and east Jerusalem in that period alone. The question of accountability looms over such deaths. An Israeli rights group called Yesh Din analyzed 2,427 complaints alleging wrongdoing by soldiers between 2016 and 2024. Soldiers were indicted in fewer than 1 percent of those cases. The pattern suggests that even when investigations occur, prosecution is rare.
On the same Saturday that Sam was buried, eight people were wounded in a separate incident in the town of Huwara, near Nablus, during what the Israeli military described as riots between Israelis and Palestinians. The Palestinian Red Crescent said the wounded included people hurt by tear gas and rubber-coated metal bullets. Footage appeared to show a soldier using violence against a Palestinian, throwing and beating someone on the ground. The military said it was reviewing the footage. Huwara has a history of such violence. In February 2023, Israeli settlers rampaged through the town, burning dozens of cars and homes, after a Palestinian gunman killed two settlers.
The occupied West Bank and east Jerusalem are home to more than 700,000 Israeli settlers living in territories captured by Israel in 1967. The international community overwhelmingly considers this settlement construction illegal and a major obstacle to peace. Palestinians seek these territories for a future state. The violence that killed Sam Fahd Abu Haikal exists within this larger context of occupation, settlement, and competing claims to land. His death is one among thousands, yet his father's words—"He was the entire world"—speak to a particular, irreplaceable loss that no inquiry or acknowledgment of mistake can undo.
Citações Notáveis
At the end they tell you it was a mistake.— Fahd Abu Haikal, the baby's father
What kind of army in the world does this?— Feryal Abu Heikal, the baby's grandmother
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does the military's acknowledgment that these were uninvolved civilians matter if accountability is so rare?
Because it's the difference between claiming you were right and admitting you were wrong. The acknowledgment doesn't bring the child back, but it removes the possibility of hiding behind the story of a threat. It makes the mistake undeniable.
The father said "at the end they tell you it was a mistake." What does he mean by that?
He's describing a pattern he's seen or heard about—that investigations conclude with the word "mistake" and then nothing happens. The word becomes a way to close the file without changing anything.
Why include the detail that the baby turned seven months old that same day?
Because it collapses time in a way that makes the randomness unbearable. He lived exactly seven months. On the day he reached that milestone, he was killed. There's no mercy in the timing.
The grandmother's question—"What kind of army in the world does this?"—is it rhetorical or genuine?
It's both. She's asking because she genuinely doesn't understand. But she's also saying: this shouldn't happen anywhere, by anyone. It's a moral question dressed as a factual one.
Does the pattern of rare indictments explain what happened, or does it just contextualize it?
It contextualizes it. The pattern doesn't explain why the soldiers fired. But it does explain why the father's demand for justice sounds like something he knows won't come.