26-åriga Aviad ringde från festivalen: ”Jag är skjuten – de dödar alla här”
GAN HADAROM. I lördags morse flydde tusentals människor för sina liv när Hamas-terrorister attackerade en trancefestival.
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GAN HADAROM. On Saturday morning, thousands of people fled for their lives when Hamas terrorists attacked a trance festival. Now the childhood friends Aviad Halevi and Zur Saidi are buried next to each other in their home village.
- Aviad called and said he had been shot, says uncle Hazi Dean.
Aviad Halevi's father washes off his front steps in the village of Gan HaDarom, outside Ashdod, with a hose. He can't bear to talk, he can't. But he welcomes us into the house where the relatives are preparing for the funeral reception.
- I am not supposed to bury him. He was going to bury me, says Aviad's grandfather.
He holds up a couple of handwritten A4 sheets, flips through them.
- I will give a speech for him today. My oldest grandson. How will I manage it?
The voice breaks. Aviad's grandfather turns away, pours orange juice and offers. The tables are set, the house in the village of Gan HaDarom is ready.
But Aviad Halevi's relatives are not.
Uncle Hazi Dean shows us to a small room upstairs. The family is in deep sorrow, but they jointly want Aviad's story to be told. Hazi Dean is given the responsibility of conveying it on behalf of the family.
The festival is called "nature festival" and was for trance music lovers. It was held outdoors in a desert-like area not far from Gaza, in southern Israel, from late Friday night and through the night into Saturday. The 26-year-old childhood friends Aviad Halevi and Zur Saidi went there together last Friday.
- There were thousands of young people there. Hamas knew it. They went straight there, because they knew they would find young people who had come there just to dance and have fun, says Hazi Dean.
At 8 o'clock on Saturday morning, Aviad Halevi called home.
- "I've been shot, I can't walk," he said. He sent his exact location via Whatsapp. "Please come and help us!" he pleaded, says Hazi Dean.
They spoke to Aviad again at nine o'clock. No help had arrived.
- He had lost a lot of blood. At 10 o'clock he again begged us to come. "They kill everyone here," he said.
That was the last time Hazi Dean heard his niece's voice. Then the mobile battery was discharged.
The death toll in Israel passed 600 on Sunday. Many believe it will end at a much higher figure. Emergency departments in the country are overcrowded and it is difficult to have time to notify relatives, which means that the official figures lag behind.
In addition, fighting continued between Israeli soldiers and the terrorist group Hamas in several places in southern Israel. The extent of the attack is not yet fully understood.
It is not yet known how many were killed at the music festival, other than that "dozens" of bodies have been found. Reports suggest that the dead could number in the hundreds. Among the visitors to the festival were a large number of Europeans and Americans, in addition to the Israeli youth.
- Hamas came back and looked for survivors. They came back and shot them again to make sure they were really dead, says Hazi Dean.
Outside the room we are sitting in, several women are crying. The heartbreaking screams enter through the cracks in the door and make Hazi Dean take a deep breath.
- We sent in some very brave men who took weapons with them and went there. One of them found Aviad and Zur dead. He lifted them into the car and drove them home, he says.
Then he bets. This is important to him.
- I want you to write exactly what I say now. Hamas - we are talking about a group of killers, a group of animals. They are not normal people. I don't know where all these hundreds of animals came from. I don't understand how they think. It's crazy.
Hazi Dean looks at his phone, pulls up a clip.
- It's really strange that you just met me. Google my name, says Hazi Dean, spelling.
Hazi Dean is the maternal uncle of Aviad Halevi.
The hits in the search engine show that the man sitting before us is one of Israel's most famous magicians. Aviad Halevi was his assistant.
- And it wasn't even his job! He worked in finance, wanted to make the big bucks, but still, every time I called and asked for his help... he came.
In the clip, Hazi Dean is strapped in and hanging upside down from a crane. He is about to start being lifted upwards, tens of meters into the air. A young Aviad Halevi grabs his cheeks and says something.
- He was the last person I saw in the eyes before I did my trick, the one who said "you can do it". That was the way he was. He was incredibly smart and he didn't have to work with me, but he did it for me, says Hazi Dean.
The burial site is ten minutes by car from the family's house in the village, which is a so-called "moshav". It traditionally means a type of agricultural society where all families have their own businesses, but share tools and vehicles with each other. In Israel there are also kibbutzim, which are collective communities where the residents run businesses together. In Hamas's surprise attack, precisely these types of villages have been hit hard.
In the aftermath, many wonder how it could happen. And why no rescue came for several hours.
It is quiet at the newly dug graves that will soon be filled again. Before the funeral procession arrives, the only thing heard are regular, dull bangs. Sometimes the silence is broken by fighter jets and helicopters passing in the air above us.
The firecrackers come from Israel's bombing of Gaza. Israel is a small country, Gaza is only a few miles south of Ashdod.
- If the flight alarm goes off, don't panic! says a man into the microphone at the funeral.
- Just lie down and hold your hands over your heads.
There, in Gaza, are an unknown number of kidnapped Israelis. Israeli media and websites are flooded with calls from worried relatives, who have lost contact with their loved ones since Saturday and fear the worst.
One of the missing is 23-year-old Dorin Atias. She, like Aviad Halevi, was last seen at the music festival.
"We have turned the world upside down, we have spoken to everyone we can think of. We've looked everywhere, but we can't find her," writes Dorin Atia's mother Tali Atias in an international search.
The only clue to Dorin's whereabouts came via the friend she was at the festival with.
The friend called his sister early Saturday morning and said "they've caught us".
This is how DN works with quality journalism: information published must be true and relevant. Rumors are not enough. We strive for first-hand sources and to be there where it happens. Credibility and impartiality are central values for our news journalism.
