A seven-month-old infant killed in cold blood. He didn't deserve this.
In the ancient hills of Hebron, a seven-month-old child named Sam Fahd Abu Haikal was shot and killed by Israeli soldiers on Friday after his father, a university lecturer, stopped the family car as instructed. The infant's death — on the very day he turned seven months old — joins a growing toll of Palestinian civilian lives lost in the West Bank, where the machinery of accountability has, by documented measure, rarely been set in motion. His mother lies in critical condition; his father carries both a wound in his hand and a demand for justice that history suggests may go unanswered. This moment asks the world what it means to live under a system where harm is acknowledged but consequence is withheld.
- A bullet fired in broad daylight passed through a father's raised hand and struck the infant he had brought into the world just seven months before.
- The military's claim that the vehicle was accelerating toward troops collides directly with the father's account — and with an initial inquiry that found the family were uninvolved civilians.
- The mother, still unaware her son is dead, lies in a hospital bed with shrapnel lodged near her heart, while her husband buries their child wrapped in a Palestinian flag.
- This killing echoes a March incident in Tamoun where soldiers shot dead a couple and two of their young children in a similar vehicle encounter, with ambulances initially blocked from the scene.
- The United Nations counts more than 240 children among the thousand Palestinians killed in the West Bank since the war began, yet fewer than 1% of 2,427 complaints against soldiers between 2016 and 2024 resulted in indictments.
- International calls for a transparent investigation have been issued, but whether accountability will follow remains, as it so often has, an open and aching question.
On a Friday evening in Hebron's Tel Rumeida neighborhood, Fahd Abu Haikal — a lecturer at Bethlehem University — was driving his family through the street when soldiers signaled him to stop. He stopped. He raised his hands on the wheel. They opened fire.
The bullet passed through his hand and struck his seven-month-old son, Sam, who was being held by his mother in the back seat. It was the boy's seven-month birthday. Sam was rushed to hospital and died there. His mother was struck by shrapnel that came to rest near her heart; she remains in critical condition. His eleven-year-old brother and grandmother were also in the car.
Abu Haikal told Haaretz the shooting happened in full daylight, the windows untinted, the soldier no more than ten meters away. There was no formal checkpoint — just soldiers in the street. He stopped as instructed. The car, he insists, was completely stationary when the shots came. After firing, the soldier withdrew his unit and walked away without a word.
The Israeli military described a vehicle they perceived to be accelerating toward troops, with one soldier responding with single shots. An initial inquiry found the occupants were uninvolved civilians. The military expressed sorrow for harm caused. Abu Haikal rejected the account entirely and called for the soldier to be held accountable. 'This case must not be closed without an investigation,' he said.
On Saturday, the family buried Sam. His father carried the small body, wrapped in a Palestinian flag. Just before the funeral prayers began, the family told Sam's mother — still in her hospital bed — that her son was gone.
The killing is not without precedent. In March, soldiers fired on a vehicle in the northern Jordan Valley, killing a father, a mother, and their two young sons — aged five and six. Ambulances were initially prevented from reaching them.
The United Nations has recorded more than a thousand Palestinian deaths in the West Bank and East Jerusalem since the war began, at least 240 of them children. Yet the Israeli human rights organization Yesh Din documents that between 2016 and 2024, fewer than one percent of 2,427 complaints against soldiers resulted in indictments. The British consulate has called for an immediate and transparent investigation. Whether one will come remains, as it has so often before, unanswered.
On Friday evening in Hebron, a family drove through the Tel Rumeida neighborhood in their car. The father, Fahd Abu Haikal, a lecturer at Bethlehem University, was at the wheel. His wife sat nearby. In the back seat, she held their seven-month-old son, Sam Fahd Abu Haikal, who had turned exactly seven months old that day. Their eleven-year-old son was also in the vehicle, along with Abu Haikal's mother. Soldiers signaled them to stop. Abu Haikal brought the car to a complete halt and raised his hands on the steering wheel. Immediately after, they opened fire.
The bullet that entered the vehicle passed through Abu Haikal's hand and struck his son, who was in his mother's arms. The infant was rushed to the hospital in critical condition. He died there. His mother was also hit, suffering injuries that left her in critical condition with shrapnel lodged near her heart. The father's hand bore the entry wound.
In an interview with Haaretz, Abu Haikal described what he saw and experienced. The shooting happened in broad daylight. The car windows were not tinted. He could see the soldier clearly—about ten meters away. The soldier could see him, could see his wife, could see the children. There was no formal checkpoint, just soldiers standing in the street. When they signaled him to stop, he stopped. Then they shot. "The car was completely stationary when he shot at us, it wasn't moving at all," Abu Haikal said. "A seven-month-old infant killed in cold blood. He didn't deserve this."
The Israeli military offered a different account. Troops, they said, had perceived a vehicle accelerating toward them. One soldier responded with single shots. Three Palestinians were injured and evacuated. The military said the incident was under review and expressed "deep sorrow for any harm caused to uninvolved individuals." An initial inquiry found those injured were uninvolved civilians.
Abu Haikal rejected the military's version entirely. The soldier opened fire, then pulled back his unit and walked away without a word or a second thought, he said. He called for an investigation and accountability. "I demand and expect, if there is any conscience, any law, any morality, that the soldier who fired the shots will be held accountable for his actions. This case must not be closed without an investigation and without accountability."
On Saturday, the family attended the funeral. The baby's body was wrapped in a Palestinian flag. His father carried him. The men placed the small bundle at their feet and bowed in prayer. Just before the funeral prayers, the family told the mother—still in critical condition—that her son was dead.
The killing of Sam Fahd Abu Haikal is not isolated. In March, Israeli troops opened fire on a vehicle in Tamoun in the northern Jordan Valley, killing a couple and two of their children: Ali Bani Odeh, thirty-eight; his wife, Waad, thirty-six; and their sons Othman, six, and Mohammad, five. Two other children in that vehicle suffered minor shrapnel injuries. Soldiers then subjected one of them to a violent interrogation at the scene. The military initially prevented ambulances from reaching the area.
According to the United Nations, more than one thousand Palestinians have been killed in the West Bank and East Jerusalem since the war began, at least two hundred and forty of them children. Forty-nine people have been killed this year alone. Yet accountability remains rare. Between 2016 and 2024, Israeli soldiers accused of harming Palestinians were indicted in fewer than one percent of cases—less than one percent of 2,427 complaints alleging wrongdoing, according to the Israeli human rights group Yesh Din. The British consulate in Jerusalem called for an immediate and transparent investigation and accountability. Whether that will come remains an open question.
Notable Quotes
The soldier signalled me to stop. I brought the car to a complete halt and raised my hands on the steering wheel. Immediately afterwards, they opened fire on the vehicle.— Fahd Abu Haikal, the father, to Haaretz
I demand and expect, if there is any conscience, any law, any morality, that the soldier who fired the shots will be held accountable for his actions.— Fahd Abu Haikal, calling for investigation and accountability
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
What does the father's account tell us that the military's doesn't?
It tells us what he saw in those seconds—the soldier's proximity, the daylight, the clarity of the scene. It's the difference between a split-second judgment call and what he describes as deliberate action. He's saying: this wasn't ambiguous.
The military said the vehicle was accelerating toward them. Why would a father with his family in the car do that?
That's the question that hangs over the whole thing. Abu Haikal says he stopped when ordered. The military says he accelerated. One of those accounts is false, and the consequences—a dead infant—don't change based on which one is true.
What strikes you about the funeral scene?
That the mother wasn't there. She was in a hospital bed, critical condition, shrapnel near her heart. Someone had to tell her, right before prayers, that her son was dead. That detail matters because it shows the full weight of what happened—not just the shooting, but everything that came after.
The military said an initial inquiry found the occupants were uninvolved civilians. So what happens next?
That's where the pattern becomes important. Fewer than one percent of complaints against soldiers result in indictments. The military can acknowledge civilians were harmed and still nothing changes. Abu Haikal knows this. That's why he's demanding accountability—because the system rarely provides it.
Is there any scenario where the military's account makes sense?
Theoretically, yes. If the vehicle really was accelerating toward armed soldiers, the response might be justified. But Abu Haikal's description—the daylight, the proximity, the family visible in the car, the immediate stop—makes that scenario harder to believe. And the military hasn't provided evidence to support it.
What does the comparison to the March incident add?
It shows this isn't an anomaly. A couple and two children killed in another shooting. Other children interrogated violently. Ambulances delayed. It's a pattern, not a one-time mistake.