If we support the good and reject the evil, we can build a better world
On a Friday in the West Bank, a British-Israeli family was torn apart by gunfire, leaving a mother and her two daughters dead within three days of the attack. The Dee family — rooted in London, transplanted to Israel nearly a decade ago — became the latest human cost of a conflict that has long outlasted any single tragedy. As hundreds gathered to mourn at a cemetery south of Jerusalem, a widowed rabbi chose words of gratitude and purpose over despair, even as the violence that claimed his family continued around him. The deaths drew swift condemnation from world leaders, yet no statement of solidarity could quiet the deeper question of when cycles of bloodshed finally break.
- A mother and her two teenage and young adult daughters were shot in the West Bank on a Friday afternoon, with the mother succumbing to her wounds three days later — leaving a husband and three surviving children to bury all three in the span of a week.
- The attack, believed to be carried out by a Palestinian gunman using a Kalashnikov rifle, struck during a broader surge of violence across Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territories, amplifying fears that the region is spiralling toward deeper crisis.
- Hundreds of mourners gathered at Kfar Etzion for the funeral, where Rabbi Leo Dee — a former senior rabbi in Hertfordshire — addressed his grief publicly, choosing a message of building rather than bitterness in the face of devastating loss.
- UK Prime Minister Rishi Sunak condemned the killings as 'abhorrent' and called for de-escalation, while Israel's ambassador expressed national solidarity with the family, yet diplomatic words offered little comfort against an unbroken cycle of regional violence.
On a Friday afternoon in the West Bank, Lucy Dee, 48, was shot twice, and her daughters Rina, 15, and Maia, 20, were struck by twenty bullets from a Kalashnikov rifle. Three days later, Lucy died from her wounds. By Tuesday, hundreds had gathered at a cemetery in Kfar Etzion, south of Jerusalem, to bury her alongside her daughters.
The funeral was solemn and crowded. Rabbi Leo Dee stood with his three surviving children, having lost his wife and two daughters within seventy-two hours. Rather than dwelling on the years of marriage cut short, he spoke of gratitude and of choice — to lament what was taken, or to work toward something better. 'If we support the good and reject the evil,' he told mourners, 'then we can all play our part in building a better world.'
The family's roots were firmly British. Rabbi Dee had served at Radlett United Synagogue in Hertfordshire and as an assistant rabbi in north London. Both daughters were born in London before the family relocated to Israel in 2014. Nine years later, they were caught in the crossfire of a region's unending conflict.
The killings drew swift international condemnation. Prime Minister Rishi Sunak called the attack 'abhorrent' and urged all sides to de-escalate. Israel's ambassador to the UK expressed solidarity with the bereaved family. Yet the statements, however sincere, could not restore what had been lost — and the violence that claimed three members of the Dee family continued unabated in the territory around them.
On a Friday afternoon in the West Bank, a family's life fractured in seconds. Lucy Dee, a 48-year-old British-Israeli woman, was shot twice. Her daughters Rina, 15, and Maia, 20, were struck by twenty bullets from a Kalashnikov rifle. Three days later, Lucy died from her wounds. By Tuesday, hundreds had gathered at a cemetery in Kfar Etzion, a settlement south of Jerusalem, to bury her.
The funeral was crowded and solemn. Mourners sang and swayed through the service as Rabbi Leo Dee, Lucy's husband, stood with their three surviving children. He had lost his wife and two daughters in the span of seventy-two hours. In his remarks, he chose not to dwell on the quarter-century of marriage he would not have. Instead, he spoke of gratitude for the years they had shared, and of a choice: to lament what was taken, or to build something better. "If we support the good and reject the evil, then we can all play our part in building a better world," he said.
The family's story is rooted in Britain. Rabbi Dee had served as senior rabbi at Radlett United Synagogue in Hertfordshire and as an assistant rabbi in Hendon, north London. Maia and Rina were born in London. In 2014, the family relocated to Israel. Nine years later, they were caught in the crossfire of a region's unending tensions.
The attack came during a broader surge of violence across Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territories. The shooting was described as a suspected Palestinian attack, though the immediate circumstances remained contested in the fog of regional conflict. What was clear was the toll: three British-Israeli citizens dead, a family shattered, and the cycle of violence continuing.
The deaths drew swift international response. Prime Minister Rishi Sunak called the killings "abhorrent" and condemned what he termed "an appalling attack on civilians." He extended condolences to Rabbi Dee and his family, and urged all sides to de-escalate and break the pattern of bloodshed that has defined the region for decades. Israel's ambassador to the UK, Tzipi Hotovely, said the nation stood united with the bereaved family.
But statements of solidarity and calls for peace, however sincere, could not restore what was lost. Rabbi Dee sat in a cemetery south of Jerusalem with three children and the weight of an impossible grief, while the violence that had taken his wife and daughters continued unabated in the territory around him.
Notable Quotes
Lucy, I have a choice: I could lament over the next 25 years of marriage that I've lost, but I actually feel blessed to have had 25 years of a beautiful marriage with you.— Rabbi Leo Dee, at his wife's funeral
The killing of British-Israeli citizens, Maia, Rina and Lucy Dee is abhorrent. The UK condemns this appalling attack on civilians.— Prime Minister Rishi Sunak
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
What strikes you most about how Rabbi Dee responded in that moment?
That he didn't collapse into rage or blame. He had every reason to. Instead he spoke about choice—about what comes next, not what was taken. That's not forgiveness. It's something harder: a refusal to let the violence define the meaning of what happened.
The family moved to Israel in 2014. Did they know what they were moving into?
They knew the region had tensions. But you don't move your family somewhere expecting your daughters to be shot in a car. No one does. They were living a life, and then suddenly they weren't.
Why does it matter that they were British?
Because it widens the circle of who this touches. It's not abstract Middle Eastern conflict anymore—it's a family from Hertfordshire, from north London. It makes the violence concrete for people who might otherwise see it as distant.
The prime minister called it abhorrent. Does that language do anything?
It acknowledges the horror. But words are what we offer when we can't offer safety, or justice, or a way to prevent the next funeral. They matter, but they're also the limit of what distant governments can do.
Three children survived. What happens to them now?
They grow up without a mother and two sisters. They carry the memory of Friday. They live in a place where this can happen again. That's the real story—not the funeral, but the living that comes after.