On Thursday, September 11, 2003, I was in the village.  Suddenly I got a telephone call from Yousef, who told me that the Border Police were attacking our children at our car shop.  He asked me to go to the shop.  I drove there in my car, and when I was 100 meters away for the shop, I saw a Border Police jeep and a white car in the middle of the road.

I got out of my car and went toward the jeep.  Then I saw my son Shadi through the back door of the jeep, which was open.  My nephew Hamza was standing by the door.  It made me crazy to see my son, his chest bare and blood dripping from him, and Hamza was also bleeding, so I shouted at the soldiers: “What have you done?  You’ve killed them, call an ambulance.”  I approached Shadi and held him, but one of the soldiers said to me, “Go away, you sonofab**ch.  I told you to go away or I’ll shoot you.”  I looked at the soldier, and suddenly I felt a bullet enter my right thigh.  I fell to the ground and began to shout: “I’ve been hurt, call an ambulance.”  Then I heard shots being fired at everyone there [Yousef, Akrami and Mamoun].

The ambulance arrived after ten minutes, but the soldiers prevented them from helping me, and even shot toward the ambulance.  Then I saw the soldier who had shot me aim his gun at me and said: “Die, why aren’t you dead you sonofab**ch?”  But the emergency guy came toward me and moved the gun to the side.  When people began to gather on the scene, the soldiers moved back, and then Hamza and I were taken onto the ambulance.  Today I am disabled and can only walk with a walker.

11/9/2003