He was the entire world. Nothing is called a mistake.
On a Friday evening near Hebron, a Palestinian family drove toward relatives and into gunfire. Sam Fahd Abu Haikal, seven months old, was killed when an Israeli soldier's bullet passed through his father's hand and into the back seat where the infant sat. The military described a perceived threat; an initial inquiry found a family of civilians. In the long arithmetic of this conflict, the death of a child who had lived less than a season joins a toll that now exceeds a thousand Palestinian lives in the West Bank since October 2023 — and a pattern of accountability that has rarely followed.
- A bullet fired at a stopped vehicle traveled through a father's hand and into his infant son's face, killing the seven-month-old and critically wounding his mother with shrapnel near her heart.
- The Israeli military's account — that soldiers perceived the car as accelerating toward them — collided immediately with the family's precise, unambiguous memory of stopping before the shooting began.
- An internal military inquiry has already found the family were uninvolved civilians, yet the case joins a documented pattern in which fewer than one percent of complaints against soldiers result in indictment.
- The British Consulate demanded a transparent investigation, but the father, who carried his son's flag-wrapped body to prayer, refused the language of accident: 'Nothing is called a mistake.'
- The killing lands inside a wider landscape of unresolved violence — over 1,000 Palestinian deaths in the West Bank since October 2023, at least 240 of them children, while ceasefire negotiations in Cairo remain deadlocked.
On a Friday evening south of Hebron, Fahd Abu Haikal — a lecturer at Bethlehem University — was driving his wife, his seven-month-old son Sam, and his mother to visit relatives. As they approached a checkpoint and saw Israeli military vehicles ahead, they stopped. The soldiers opened fire.
A bullet came through the windshield, passed through the father's right hand, and continued into the back seat. It entered the baby's face on the right side and exited on the left, then struck the mother. When the shooting ended, Sam Fahd Abu Haikal was dead. His mother lay critically wounded, shrapnel lodged near her heart. His father's hand was shattered.
The Israeli military said soldiers had perceived the vehicle as accelerating toward them and fired single shots. An initial inquiry found the occupants were uninvolved civilians. The matter, the military said, was under review.
The father's account left no room for ambiguity. He described the sequence — windshield, hand, son, wife — with the clarity of someone who had watched it happen and could not stop it. His mother, also in the car, said she had thought the first shots were warnings. At the funeral, the father carried his son's body wrapped in a Palestinian flag. Afterward, he spoke with the weight of total loss. 'He was the entire world,' he said. Of the military's framing, he was direct: 'At the end they tell you it was a mistake. Nothing is called a mistake.'
The killing is not singular. Since October 2023, the United Nations has documented more than 1,000 Palestinian deaths in the West Bank and east Jerusalem, at least 240 of them children. Israeli soldiers are rarely held accountable: between 2016 and 2024, fewer than one percent of complaints against them resulted in indictment, according to the rights group Yesh Din. The British Consulate in Jerusalem called the killing shocking and demanded immediate, transparent accountability — words that arrived at a distance from a father carrying his infant son to prayer.
Elsewhere, the wider machinery of the conflict continued without pause. An Israeli strike in Gaza City killed at least six people near a school. In Cairo, Hamas negotiators sought to break a deadlock in ceasefire talks, the second phase of any agreement still unresolved among Israel, Egypt, Qatar, Turkey, and the Palestinian factions.
On a Friday evening in the Tel Rumeida area south of Hebron, a family set out to visit relatives. Fahd Abu Haikal, a lecturer at Bethlehem University, was driving with his wife, their seven-month-old son Sam Fahd Abu Haikal, and his mother. They were approaching a checkpoint when they saw Israeli military vehicles and soldiers ahead. They stopped. Then the soldiers opened fire.
A bullet pierced through the windshield, entered the father's right hand, and continued into the back seat where the baby sat. The round passed through the child's face—entering from the right side, exiting from the left. It then struck the mother. Another bullet hit the hood. When the shooting stopped, the seven-month-old was dead. His mother lay critically wounded, shrapnel lodged near her heart. His father's hand was shattered.
The Israeli military's account differed. Soldiers, the statement said, had perceived the vehicle as accelerating toward them and responded with single shots. Three Palestinians were wounded. An initial inquiry determined they were uninvolved civilians. The matter was under review.
The father's recollection was precise and unburdened by ambiguity. He told journalists exactly what he saw: the windshield struck first, then his hand, then his son, then his wife. His mother, who was in the car, remembered thinking the initial shots were warnings. She described what she witnessed in the back seat as horrific. The baby's face was destroyed.
At the funeral, the father carried his son's body wrapped in a Palestinian flag. The men placed the small bundle at their feet and prayed. The father spoke afterward with the weight of someone who had lost everything he could lose in a single moment. "He was the entire world," he said. When asked about the military's explanation, he rejected the language of accident entirely. "At the end they tell you it was a mistake. Nothing is called a mistake."
The killing was not isolated. Since the October 2023 Hamas attack on southern Israel and the subsequent war in Gaza, the Israeli military has intensified operations across the occupied West Bank. The United Nations documented more than 1,000 Palestinian deaths in the West Bank and east Jerusalem in that period—at least 240 of them children. The pattern of accountability has been thin: between 2016 and 2024, Israeli soldiers were indicted in fewer than one percent of the 2,427 complaints alleging wrongdoing, according to the Israeli rights group Yesh Din.
The British Consulate in Jerusalem issued a statement calling the killing shocking and demanding an immediate, transparent investigation and accountability. The words were formal and distant from the scene itself—a father carrying his dead infant son, wrapped in cloth and flag, to prayer.
Meanwhile, in Gaza, an Israeli strike on Saturday killed at least six people near a school in Gaza City. Hamas negotiators were in Cairo attempting to break a deadlock in ceasefire talks, seeking to move beyond the fragile agreement that had begun in October. The second phase of implementation remained unresolved, its terms still contested among Israel, Egypt, Qatar, Turkey, and the Palestinian factions. The machinery of negotiation continued while the machinery of conflict did not pause.
Citas Notables
He was the entire world. At the end they tell you it was a mistake. Nothing is called a mistake.— Fahd Abu Haikal, the father, speaking after his son's death
The scene was horrific to see a 7-month-old baby with a smashed face. What kind of army in the world does this?— Feryal Abu Heikal, the baby's grandmother, who was in the car during the shooting
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does the military's account matter if the family's version is so clear?
Because it shapes whether this becomes a crime or a tragedy. The military says the soldiers perceived a threat. If that perception was reasonable, the shooting might be justified—a mistake, yes, but not a violation. The family says they stopped when they saw soldiers. Those are incompatible stories.
And the investigation will determine which is true?
In theory. But the pattern suggests investigations rarely conclude that soldiers acted wrongly. Less than one percent of complaints lead to indictment. The father knows this. That's why he said "nothing is called a mistake"—he's saying the system itself is the problem.
What does the baby's age matter?
It matters because it removes any possibility of ambiguity about threat. A seven-month-old cannot accelerate a vehicle. Cannot be armed. Cannot be anything but what he was—a child in a car. The specificity of his age is the specificity of innocence.
The mother is still alive. What happens to her?
She's in critical condition with shrapnel near her heart. The source doesn't say what comes next for her. But she'll carry this—the knowledge that her son died from a bullet that passed through her hand first, that she survived and he didn't.
Is there any indication the soldiers will face consequences?
None. The military says it's under review. That's the language of process, not accountability. Given the historical rate of indictment, the family has reason to expect nothing will come of it.