Samir Bani Fadel, 40, a father of six from the Khirbet a-Twayel community, described a settler assault on him and his son, his arrest and his family's expulsion

My family and I lived in Khirbet a-Twayel and made our living raising sheep. We also have a house in the town of ‘Aqraba, but it’s not possible to raise sheep there. In winter, we would move with our flock to the ‘Ein a-Sukhun area, where it was warmer, but settlers who established an outpost in the area drove us away from there back in 2024.

On Tuesday, 17 March 2026, at around 9:30 A.M., I went out with my son Jawad, fifteen, to graze our flock, about 170 sheep, in the area of Kh. Twayel. We had barely walked 300 meters when a settler ATV reached us, with a settler armed with an automatic rifle riding it. After him, four more settlers arrived on foot, two of them carrying long rifles. One of them said to me: “It’s not allowed here.” I replied: “Every day you prevent us from reaching a different area; where am I supposed to go?” I turned around to leave because I didn’t want any trouble with the settlers, but then the four settlers who had come on foot assaulted Jawad, who was about five meters behind me. They hit him in the head with a rifle, knocked him to the ground and kept kicking him and hitting him with their rifles.

the settler, whom I know well, fired two shots in the air from his automatic rifle to scare me. He hurled degrading curses at me and threatened to shoot me. I saw [my son] Jawad in the settlers’ hands, shouting and calling for help, and I couldn’t do anything.

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I tried to protect my son, but the settler, whom I know well, fired two shots in the air from his automatic rifle to scare me. He hurled degrading curses at me and threatened to shoot me. I saw Jawad in the settlers’ hands, shouting and calling for help, and I couldn’t do anything. My heart broke for him. I was afraid they’d shoot him. I’m not crazy. I could not attack armed settlers.

The settlers finally backed away when several residents arrived. The security coordinator of the settlement of Gittit also came and started taking pictures of the settlers as if they were the victims. I said to him: “Why aren’t you taking pictures of my son?” Jawad was injured; his face and hands were covered in blood. He answered me mockingly: “What are you, my friend?” I said to him: “I have no wish whatsoever to be your friend. Do you not see that he’s injured? I want an ambulance.” He answered: “Let your son die. I don’t care.”

Jawad was injured; his face and hands were covered in blood. He answered me mockingly: “What are you, my friend?” I said to him: “I have no wish whatsoever to be your friend. Do you not see that he’s injured? I want an ambulance.” He answered: “Let your son die. I don’t care.”

The security coordinator took my ID card and kept it until the military arrived, after about five minutes. The soldiers immediately tied my hands and blindfolded me without asking me anything. The settlers had already given them a completely false account. They tried to take me to one of the military jeeps, but I refused to move until an ambulance came. I said to them: “I’m not going anywhere until my son is treated.” After about ten minutes, an Israeli ambulance arrived, and the medics bandaged Jawad’s head. Only then did the soldiers take me to a military jeep. From there, they transferred me to the settlement of Migdalim, then to the Za’atara military camp, at the Tapuah junction, and in the evening, they transferred me to the Ariel police station.

At the Ariel police station, I was interrogated, which is how I found out I was being accused of snatching a firearm from a settler and hitting him in the chest and head. I denied it. The interrogator spoke Arabic very well and said to me: “You’re a liar.” I said to her: “I’m not lying.” She repeated: “You’re a liar.” I said to her: “It’s not appropriate for you to say such a thing to me. I am 39-years-old, and I’ve never lied.” She accused me of being impertinent toward her and wrote that in the interrogation notes.

She shouted at me and said: “I’ll bring your son and wife.” I said to her: “Bring them.” She asked: “And what if they say something different?” I said to her: “Then arrest them.” She told another police officer who was in the interrogation room that I have a hard head and that I wanted her to bring my son and wife. I said to her: “What do you want me to say, confess to things I didn’t do so you can destroy my home and send me to prison for years? I will not say I did something I didn’t do. This is what I have to say, and I have nothing else.”

At the Ariel police station, I was interrogated, which is how I found out I was being accused of snatching a firearm from a settler and hitting him in the chest and head. I denied it. The interrogator spoke Arabic very well and said to me: “You’re a liar.” I said to her: “I’m not lying.” She repeated: “You’re a liar.”

She asked me: “So why were two shots fired?” I replied: “Do you not know that the settler is the one who shot at us?” She said: “Maybe you scared him.” I said to her: “He has a big weapon that can kill me, my son and 20 other people, and you say that we scared him? We didn’t do anything. They are the ones who came to us. They wanted to steal our flock, beat us and take as many sheep as they could, but they didn’t manage to because the residents arrived at the scene.”

The interrogation lasted about half an hour, and then they moved me to a holding cell. At around 2:00 A.M., they transferred me to Ofer Prison, and that’s where the real suffering began. Right at admission, they stripped me naked; not a single article of clothing was left on me. They shaved my mustache, beard and hair in a crooked way on purpose to humiliate me. They swore at me, insulted me and beat me.

After that, they put me in a cell. In the cells, during roll call, they would shout at us, and we’d all have to lie down immediately on the floor, face down, within a yellow line marked on the room’s floor, in an area of about 1.20 x 2 meters. Everyone had to squeeze behind the line. If someone’s foot was outside, they’d get violently beaten, and if someone was late getting behind the line, they’d get beaten. I saw them brutally beating a 67-year-old man from Bethlehem, who had trouble walking, just because his feet were outside the line. He suffered from that for several days.

one of the officers called me and said: “You’d be better off not returning to the a-Twayel area, because we’re not responsible for what happens to you. [...] I am telling you this for your own good, don’t go back. The settlers might harm your children, your flock or you.”

On about my 12th day in Ofer Prison, one of the officers called me and said: “You’d be better off not returning to the a-Twayel area, because we’re not responsible for what happens to you.” I said to him: “I want to go back to my home.” He said: “I am telling you this for your own good, don’t go back. The settlers might harm your children, your flock or you.”

I stayed in Ofer Prison for about 13 days. They brought me to court on the fifth, ninth and 13th days, when I was released on bail of 5,500 ILS (~ 1,810 USD), and I paid another 2,500 ILS (~ 825 USD) in legal fees to the lawyer. When I came home, I first went to ‘Aqraba, and then I found out that my wife, the children and the flock had already left the a-Twayel area after the assault and moved to our home in ‘Aqraba. I was in prison, Jawad was injured, and my wife couldn’t stay alone in such a dangerous place.

After I was released, I heard from one of the residents of a-Twayel that the settlers came to the place where I’d lived and asked about me. When the residents told them that I was in detention, the settlers replied, “No, he was released today.” They asked whether I would be coming back to a-Twayel, and when the residents said that I would, one of them said: “Fine, we’ll see who comes back.” They told another resident: “If you make trouble, we’ll do to you what we did to Samir.”

I haven’t gone back there since. I stayed in my home in ‘Aqraba, but we can’t raise sheep there. There’s not enough space for the flock, so I had to rent a nearby plot of land to keep it there, and even that’s not enough. My flock doesn’t go out to pasture anymore, and I have to buy animal feed and hay every day. I lose money every day. At this time of year, pasture is supposed to be at its peak, and usually there’s no need to buy much food for the flock, but now we have no access to pasture, and we are suffering on all counts. We don’t know what to do with the flock.

• Testimony given to B’Tselem field researcher Salma a-Deb'i on 13 May 2026