The full picture of the tragedy that befell the family is still incomplete. Some details cannot be confirmed. What is indisputable is that their car came under fire; The parents and most of the children were killed; A 6-year-old girl begged for hours to be saved; Paramedics were sent. Then I lost communications.
The Washington Post reconstructed the events of that day by interviewing three family members and five members of the Palestine Red Crescent Society and reviewing audio phone conversations between dispatchers and the children in the car. The family's story is emblematic of the continuing dangers civilians face in northern Gaza – even as Israel says it is ending its military mission there – and the depth of their isolation from the outside world.
When asked for comment several times, the IDF said: “We are not aware of the incident described.” The newspaper provided specific coordinates and additional details to the Israeli army on Tuesday morning and received no response.
In the Palestine Red Crescent Society's operations room in Ramallah, the landline was ringing. It was 2:28 p.m., and Omar Al Qimam, the only dispatcher on duty that day, had arrived.
From 2,000 miles away, in Frankfurt, Germany, came the steady voice of Mohammed Salem Hamadeh: “My family members are trapped in Gaza City,” he told Omar. “They were driving a black Kia Picanto and the car was targeted. Some people inside were killed.”
Mohammed gave Omar the phone number of his 15-year-old niece, Layan, who called his uncle in southern Gaza to raise the alarm. The uncle, experiencing patchy cell service, called his cousin in Germany, hoping he could get help.
The uncle relayed what Layan told him: that the Israeli army opened fire on the family car. Her parents and four siblings – Sanaa, 13, Raghad, 12, Mohammed, 11, and 4-year-old Sarah – died.
Leanne told her uncle that she was bleeding. Her cousin Hind, 6 years old, is the only other survivor.
Omar is in Ramallah calling for Layan. She looked terrified.
“They are shooting at us,” she shouted into the phone. “The tank is next to me.”
“Are you hiding?” Asked.
Then came an explosion of fire. Leanne screamed. The line died.
Omar, who was shocked, said that he went to find his colleague Rana Fakih in another room. She remembered that he was shaking.
Rana said that she put him back in his chair in the transmission room and stood next to him while he called again.
It was Hind who answered this time.
“Are you in the car now?” He asked her.
“Yes,” came the small voice on the other end.
Rana took the phone and told the 6-year-old she would stay on the phone until help arrived.
Hind's voice was so quiet that it was impossible to tell her response.
“Who are you with?” Rana asked.
Hind told her: “With my family.”
I asked Rana if she had tried to wake up her family. Hind replied: I'm telling you they died.
Rana asked her how the car was hit.
Hind said: “A tank.” “The tank is next to me… it's heading towards me… it's very, very close.”
Rana's voice was strong, clear and reassuring. Hind was faint and trembling. Rana urged her to continue talking. Pray together. Rana read to her from the Qur’an.
Don't cry, she told the little girl, even though Rana was fighting back tears too.
She said to Hind: “Don’t be afraid.” “They won't hurt you. …Don't leave the car.
Minutes passed. Hind appeared dropping the phone. The silence was longer now.
“If I could get you out, I would,” Rana said. “We are doing our best.”
Rana was crying now, but she tried to keep her voice steady.
Hind said: “Please come and get me.” Over and over again: “Come and get me.”
There was a distant rumble of fire in the background.
Hind repeated: “Come and get me.”
Rana, 37, has been working in crisis and disaster management with the Palestine Red Crescent Society since 2009. She said she had faced such situations before, but never for a young girl to this extent.
Her colleagues located the car in a neighborhood near Al-Azhar University. The arrival of an ambulance there, within a closed military zone, requires permission from the Israeli army. It was a multi-agency operation, communicating over unreliable phone lines. Dispatchers knew it could take hours.
“We have received hundreds of calls from people who are trapped,” said Nepal Farsakh, spokesman for the Palestine Red Crescent Society. “People just want to help evacuate. “Unfortunately we don't have secure access.”
The workers told the newspaper that around 3 p.m. they contacted the Palestinian Ministry of Health in Ramallah, which coordinates the safe passage of paramedics with the Office for the Coordination of Government Activities in the Territories – an arm of the Israeli Ministry of Defense. Fathi Abu Wardeh, advisor to the Palestinian Ministry of Health, confirmed that he had received the green light from the Office for the Coordination of Government Activities in the Territories to send an ambulance to the region. The Office for the Coordination of Government Activities in the Territories did not respond to questions from The Washington Post and referred them to the Israeli army.
The operators said they tried to remain focused on Hind. The leadership was taken by Nisreen Qawwas, 56 years old, head of the mental health department at the Palestine Red Crescent Society.
Nisreen remembers, saying: “She was practicing deep breathing exercises with us, and I told her that we would be with her second by second.”
But Hind began to move away, Nisreen says, and hung up the phone several times, feeling frustrated because no one came for her.
Eventually, workers said they reached Hind's mother, who was seeking shelter elsewhere in Gaza City, and recorded her in the call.
“Her mother’s voice really made a difference,” Nisreen said. “Every moment she would say to her mother: ‘I miss you, mom.’”
Nisreen remembers saying: “Her mother said to her: You will be with me shortly and I will hug you.”
The newspaper was unable to reach Hind's mother in Gaza City, where communication is limited.
At 5:40 p.m. — three hours after the phone first rang in Ramallah — dispatchers said they received a call from the Palestinian Ministry of Health. The ministry told them that they had obtained permission to send paramedics to Hind. The Israeli authorities provided them with a map to follow. The Palestinian Red Crescent Society sent an ambulance closer to the scene, 1.8 kilometers away, accompanied by two paramedics.
Nisreen said that she tried to keep Hind engaged. They talked about the sea, the sun and her favorite chocolate cake.
But everyone could tell that the little girl was fading. She said her hand was bleeding, and that there was blood on her body. It was dark now. She told her mother that she was hungry, thirsty and cold.
Paramedics radioed as they approached the vehicle, dispatchers said. Nisreen said the team in Ramallah encouraged them to move forward slowly.
At that moment there was “heavy gunfire,” dispatchers said. The line with Hind was lost.
Omar said that the last sentence Hind said was, “Come and get me.”
It was seven o'clock on a Monday evening. There has been no news from Hind or the ambulance crew since then.
Maryam Berger, Sufyan Taha and Louisa Lovelock in Jerusalem contributed to this report.
