Her name was Iman Al-Hams. Thirteen years old. Carrying a schoolbag. Shot seventeen times by an Israeli army captain near Rafah. It was 2004. 22 years ago. Soldiers in a watchtower saw her first: “A little girl… scared to death.” They radioed again: “About ten years old, behind the embankment.” They shot her.
Her bag fell. No bomb. Then Captain R walked toward her broken body. He fired twice into her head. Walked away. Turned back. Emptied his rifle into her chest, arms, and legs. On the military tape, he said: “I confirmed the kill.” He later admitted that he would have done the same had she been a 3 year old.
A military court acquitted him on all charges a year later. To be more precise—they did not charge him with Iman’s murder. Instead, they charged him for “Illegal use of weapon” and “conduct unbecoming.” And even those were cleared. Dismissed.
He wept in the courtroom: and told the public “I told you I was innocent.” Iman’s father, Samir heard the verdict and said: “The soldier murdered her once. The court murdered her again.” The army’s only statement was that she crossed a “security zone.” Her autopsy showed seventeen bullets. Three in the head. One entered by her right ear. Her schoolbag, white and empty, lay beside her.
No one attacked the soldiers that day. No one but a child running home. Her name was Iman. She was thirteen. And the earth still holds the shape of where she fell.
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