Source: Day #1 – July 7, 2014
We all remember where we were when something momentous occurred — Kennedy’s assassination and the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Towers are two such days for me. A third day is July 7, 2014.
I was in Gilroy, California helping a friend whose husband was in the hospital. That day I was sitting in her house watching TV for news about the Middle East.
Several weeks earlier three Israeli teens had been abducted. The day-by-day search for them occupied everyone’s attention, and provided the rationale for Israel’s military to search house-by-house and the jailing of 100s of Palestinians in the occupied West Bank.
I remember the distraught parents of the Israeli teenagers even went to the United Nations Headquarters to plea for their safe return, but to no avail. At the end of June, their bodies were found and a national period of mourning began.
The day after the burial, a Palestinian boy, Mohammed Abu Khdeir was abducted by Israeli settlers off the street in East Jerusalem. His charred body was found a few hours later. He’d been tortured and burned alive.
So I sat in front of the TV expecting the worst. It felt like a ticking time-bomb.
We later learned that Netanyahu knew* the Israeli teenagers were dead shortly after their abduction, but he kept that information from the grieving families, and from the media, so that he could fan the flames of vengeance and build public support for his attack on Gaza on July 7, 2014.
* One of the teens managed to dial for help from his cell when gunshots were heard.