“And?”
“She came and said Binyomin’s feet were cold.”
“Take some water. There.”
“I didn’t understand. About ten minutes passed before she said we ought to take him down because he was hanging and not saying anything. At that moment Gershon came in. He had been outside in the yard and ran upstairs. Binyomin was dead. He had done it during the night. It was too late already.”
“Deborah, we know the boy was ill. Tell me, had he quarrelled with you or his father?”
“Yes. He wanted to leave and his father would not let him.”
“He wanted to leave your house?”
“No, he wanted to emigrate to Russia to his grandmother. We were planning to send him to America to my parents and brothers, but he wanted to go to Russia. His father wouldn’t let him. That is what they quarrelled about.”
“When did this occur?”
“It was in the air all the time.”
“Did his father beat him?”
“Leave me alone …”
“Deborah! Are you unwell? Shall I call a doctor?”
“Yes, get a doctor, get a doctor! My contractions have started.”
15. 1995, Hebron
P
OLICE
R
ECORD OF QUESTIONING OF
G
ERSHON
S
HIMES AFTER THE SUICIDE OF
B
INYOMIN
“I understand your grief but this is a requirement. We have to question you.”
“Go on then.”
“Who discovered Binyomin in the attic?”
“My daughter Sarra.”
“And …”
“I was in the courtyard, came into the house, she said we had to take Binyomin down because he didn’t want to himself. I ran to the attic. He had hanged himself in the only place that was possible, attaching a rope to the rafters.”
“Why did you take him down? He was dead, and the rule is that you should call the police.”
“At that moment I was not thinking about police rules.”
“There are items lying here—shorts, a silver chain with a charm in the form of the letter ‘shin’, and a woollen rosary. Are these his possessions?”
“Yes.”
“Why was he holding a rosary?”
“That’s something I would like to know. That’s what I’m most interested in. In April, after the first suicide attempt, he ran away from the hospital and disappeared for a couple of months until the police caught him. He would not say where he had been. I think it was some Christian sect, and they had held him against his will.”
“What makes you think that? Do you have any information?”
“No. He didn’t say anything, but now I shall find everything out. He would be alive but for their interfering.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Absolutely sure. And it is the police who should be looking into this, not me.”
“Have you made a statement to the police?”
“All this time I have been held in prison without being charged with anything. What opportunity have I had to make a statement?”
“Yes, I know that. You were being investigated in connection with the Baruch Goldstein case.”
“Yes. I was being held for no reason whatsoever.”
“Right now we have a different problem. Did you quarrel with your son?”
“Yes. Only I do not consider he was crazy. That is, he was crazy, but not in that sense of the word.”
“I am not concerned with medical problems. Did you quarrel with him shortly before his suicide?”
“Yes. We had a big argument but he got what he wanted. I gave him permission to go to Russia to stay with his grandmother. I have nothing to hide, before that I boxed his ears.”
“He has a fresh scratch on his lip. Was that a consequence of having his ears boxed?”
“Yes, I suppose so. I have nothing to hide. He is my son, and these are our relations, and they are no business of anyone else.”
“Were no business, Gershon. Please now sign the statement. You must understand yourself that in a case like this, the police have to exclude the possibility of murder.”
“What? How dare you say that to me, his father! Do you suspect me of killing my own son? Well I’ll …”
“Stop. Don’t start coming at me with your fists. I do not consider you a murderer, and I will be writing that to the appropriate authority.”
“You bloody fuzz! (The following text is unprintable.) You’re all the same everywhere! (Unprintable text). You’d do better to go looking for those who imprisoned the boy, who dunned this protest against his parents into his head! Your (unprintable text) police only think about keeping the Arabs happy! You don’t give a thought to your own people, you don’t protect your own citizens!
“You only protect your own backsides! You’d do better to search for those monsters who filled my boy’s head with nonsense! You might as well not be here! You can all just (unprintable text). I’ll find them myself! I’ll take my own vengeance! … Your government … your Rabin …”
(The last section was in Russian. Translated by V. Tsypkin.)
16. November 1995, Haifa
F
ROM A LETTER FROM
H
ILDA TO HER MOTHER
Dear Mama,
You must already have heard that Yitzhak Rabin has been assassinated. It is the only thing people are talking about, the newspapers, television, people in shops, and even the parishioners in church. Daniel, too, is very agitated. He was always convinced that only a joint Jewish-Arab state had a realistic chance of survival, and that the creation of two independent states is impossible because the borders are not territorial but in the recesses of people’s minds. If you can heal people’s minds there is a chance of survival. I look on all this as an outsider or, more exactly, from my own standpoint. I am not a Jew or a Palestinian. No matter how much I love Israel, in my heart I have immense sympathy for the Arabs, ordinary civilians whose situation becomes more difficult by the year. I am only freelancing here. I can return to Germany at any time and do there exactly what I am doing here: look after sick old people, work with unfortunate children, and distribute charitable aid.
I don’t remember if I told you the psychiatrists here have introduced a new term, “Jerusalem syndrome.” It is insanity on a religious basis. After the Baruch Goldstein saga the whole country is suffering an acute attack of this ailment. The right-wingers and settlers have become terribly hostile toward left-wingers. Some want peace at any price, others with equal passion thirst for victory over their enemies. The situation is desperately tense and overheated.
I’m planning to take a holiday and Daniel and I have agreed that I will return to Germany for a couple of weeks in early December, so that I can be back home here for Christmas. Well, a few days before, in order to have time to prepare for the festival. I will call you as soon as I know my departure date.
17. 1 December 1995, Jerusalem
F
ROM THE NEWSPAPER
HADASHOT HA’EREV
According to newspaper reports, on 22 June 1995, four months before the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin, an ancient death curse ceremony, the “Pulsa de-Nura,” was performed in the old cemetery of Rosh Pina in Galilee. Twenty extreme right-wing activists, all bearded men over 40, none of them divorced or widowed, prayed under the guidance of a rabbi that the “angels of destruction” should kill “the sinner Yitzhak Rabin.”
The ritual curse was recited at the grave of Shlomo Ben-Yosef, a member of the Betar ultra-nationalist movement. Ben-Yosef was hanged in Palestine in 1938 for attempting to destroy an Arab bus. Reports of the ceremony appeared in the newspapers even before the murder, but it was only after that tragic event that the public took an interest.