Sebastia, occupied West Bank – When Israeli military vehicles approach, news of the latest incursion begins cascading through Sebastia from one person to another, and the young people run home as fast as possible.

They try to get back before invading soldiers reach their street, knowing all too well the potentially grave consequences if they don’t.

The warning cries often originate from those walking near the vantage point of Sebastia archaeological park’s scenic summit.

From here, people can spot army vehicles on the roads below before they reach the town and its ancient ruins, giving people a chance to hide their young.

Soon after, walking prevention warnings are often circulated on social media, and the residents of Sebastia – once a religious pilgrimage site and a tourism hotspot – have the choice of hunkering down at home or facing soldiers who no longer show any restraint.

‘He celebrated killing my son’

In January this year, an Israeli soldier shot dead 14-year-old Ahmed Jazar and then raised his rifle in the air triumphantly after hitting the unarmed boy in the chest, piercing his heart.

Witnesses saw the soldier “celebrating” as Ahmed slowly bled to death on the ground, his father, Rashid, aged 57, told Al Jazeera.

Ahmed was mature beyond his years, his parents say, and made caring for his poverty-stricken family his vocation.

He was also a talented painter and wanted to train as a decorator. He aspired to open a shop so he could make enough money to buy his family a permanent home – something better than the overcrowded rental apartment they lived in.

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“They shot Ahmed and killed all his dreams, right there and then,” his mother, Wafaa, said.

“The army treats us like we’re in a state of war – but we’ve done nothing.

“Soldiers are here every day, and no one feels their children are safe unless they are at home.”

Ahmed woke up in the early afternoon on the Sunday he was killed, Wafaa and Rashid say, having stayed up late playing with his friends in the neighbourhood the night before. He liked to play football in the schoolyard, cycle near the archaeological park, and eat at the town’s once-busy cafes.

He came back after seeing his friends and spent some time with his family, unaware that they would be sharing their final moments.

Then, as the dinner hour neared, his parents sent Ahmed out to buy bread.

“It was always a habit of his to come and go in this way,” Rashid said. “He was very sociable … everyone loved him.

“But this time, he left and never came back.”

The Israeli soldiers’ frequent raids on occupied West Bank towns prompt some children and young people into acts of defiance, like throwing stones towards the heavily armed soldiers or their armoured vehicles, or shining laser pointers at them.

According to some neighbours, Ahmed and his friends did shine laser pens on the fatal January day, hiding behind a wall near a nursery as some soldiers walked towards them.

His family denies Ahmed’s part in this. Rashid and Wafaa said they were awaiting his return from the shops so they could eat dinner together.

“He was just a child,” Rashid said. “The Israeli soldier knew he was a young boy – and that he was no threat to the army in any way.

“He was hundreds of metres away from them when they shot him!”

The bullet-dented door and facade of the nursery, established by charity Save The Children, still stand as a reminder of what happened when Ahmed was shot dead.

Speaking to Israeli newspaper Haaretz in March, a military spokesperson said: “In the wake of the incident, an investigation was launched by the Military Police Criminal Investigation Division. Naturally, we cannot elaborate on an ongoing investigation.”

Palestinians, including residents of Sebastia, say they are used to what they call “sham” investigations that usually have no result, and almost certainly no punishment for perpetrators.

Rashid was contacted by the military to provide information for the investigation into Ahmed’s killing, but he refused.

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“They killed my son and then call me to talk about justice?” he said.

Al Jazeera sent written inquiries to Israeli authorities, asking for comment on the investigation into Ahmed’s shooting but no response had been received by time of publication.

The Israeli army often raids cities and towns in the West Bank, but few are targeted like Sebastia, where it has stepped up attacks since Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu established his far-right ultranationalist government in late 2022.

Since then, the military killed Fawzi Makhalfeh, aged 19, in July 2023, and Ahmed on January 19 this year.

There have been at least 25 gunshot injuries in Sebastia since Netanyahu’s coalition government came to power, a handful of which involved children. A 22-year-old man from the nearby town of Attil was shot in the chest while driving through Sebastia earlier this month.

Violent settlers also wreak havoc on Palestinian landowners around the town, which is dependent on agriculture and tourism, and yet more settlements, official and unofficial, are set to be built around Sebastia.

Soldiers attack anyone who fights back and circulate threatening messages using residents’ mobile phones. One recording, heard by Al Jazeera, by what is ostensibly an Israeli soldier, accuses townspeople of being “involved in terrorism”, and warns they will “pay the price”.

Justice

Wafaa and her husband sat on either side of a memorial to their slain son in the humble living room of the rented home they can barely afford. Ahmed left behind four brothers and three sisters aged between seven and 20.

Rashid used to work as a painter in Israel, but, like thousands of Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank, he has been unable to go to work across the border since October 7, contributing to the family’s perilous financial situation.

The eldest son, Rushdi, 19, works as a carpenter intermittently, and, other than Rashid, is the only family member in employment.

Ahmed had dropped out of school, they said, to help his father by doing odd jobs such as painting and olive picking to generate money for the family. Wafaa, who used to make dresses, is also unable to find work and still has five young children dependent on her care.

Two of Ahmed’s remaining siblings, Amir, aged six, and Adam, 11, clung on to their mother as she spoke.

“I sit by Ahmed’s grave and cry for hours,” Wafaa told Al Jazeera, weeks after her son’s killing. “I cry there as much as I can, so that my children don’t see me – I have to be strong for them.”

The 40-year-old was incapable of keeping eye contact, as if tears would overcome her at any moment. She held up Ahmed’s blood-stained clothes, torn by bullets.

After the soldiers left that day, Rashid recalled rushing to the scene and pushing his way through a crowd, only to find Ahmed collapsed in a pool of blood, metres away from where he was shot.

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Rashid then drove with Ahmed to An-Najah Hospital in Nablus, but his son did not survive the journey. He was pronounced dead on arrival.

His mother fell unconscious after hearing of Ahmed’s killing, and says she awoke feeling “defeated”, as if her life was over.

She says Israel wants Sebastia residents to feel this way, so they resist no longer and leave.

Rashid, with a vacant expression, said his son’s killing had terrorised his family into staying indoors – and when invasions take place, they lock their doors, hide in a back room, and turn off the lights.

He says similar precautions are taken by many in Sebastia, who are “living in fear” after his son’s killing sent out a chilling message to those who call the ancient town home.

“The army comes here daily – and now we fear to go out,” Wafaa added. “Soldiers are prepared to shoot children now.

“I let my son go to the shops, but I got him back [covered] in blood.”