Sensitive readers may wish to skip this article. Chief Superintendent Moshe Rahamim sat across from a Hamas operative responsible for the murder of a female soldier. Presented with irrefutable evidence, the terrorist did not deny the act; he confessed. But it was the justification he offered that left an indelible mark on the veteran investigator.
“He told us, ‘I saw her wallowing in her own blood… I wanted to help her. So I slaughtered her.’”
Rahamim immediately tested this grotesque claim of mercy. He asked the suspect if he would offer the same “help” to a wounded Palestinian in Gaza, or if he would call for an ambulance. The terrorist admitted he would, of course, call for help.
“That’s when the penny drops,” Rahamim explains. “You realize you are dealing with deeply brainwashed, hate-filled individuals. No matter how calmly they speak or how human they appear while claiming they just wanted to ‘put her out of her misery’—you realize they came for only one thing: to murder.”
For weeks, Rahamim and dozens of investigators from Lahav 433, Israel’s version of the FBI, have been painstakingly building the most significant legal case in Israel since the 1961 Eichmann trial: The State of Israel vs. the October 7 terrorists.
Based on a wider interview by Yedioth Ahronoth’s Liran Levi, the immense scope of this investigation is being managed by a specialized team. Among its members are Rahamim, a specialist in Arab crime syndicates and sex crimes; Adv. Staff Sgt. Major Nadine Hanhan, a veteran of organized crime investigations; and Chief Supt. Rimon Wahabi, an expert in white-collar corruption and violent crimes.”
Palestinians take control of an Israeli tank after crossing the border fence with Israel from Khan Yunis in the southern Gaza Strip, October 7, 2023. (Abed Rahim Khatib/Flash90)
Hundreds of terrorists who participated in the October 7 massacre—ranging from elite Nukhba and Palestinian Islamic Jihad operatives to second-wave gunmen and third-wave looters—are currently incarcerated across Israel. Investigators are meticulously gathering evidence to convict them of murder, rape, kidnapping, and other severe crimes. Because standard criminal clauses pale in comparison to these atrocities, lawmakers may introduce new charges, such as genocide. Meanwhile, top legal officials are fiercely debating the trial’s structure: will it be public, held jointly, or conducted in a special tribunal? The road ahead is long, and the exact number of defendants and victims remains fluid as more terrorists are continually brought in from Gaza.
Led by the Lahav 433 police unit—which has effectively paused all other casework—and aided by other intelligence agencies, the evidence-gathering operation is moving at a frantic pace. Investigators are interrogating suspects, questioning hundreds of eyewitnesses, and collecting forensic, pathological, and cyber data. They are also processing roughly 50,000 videos captured by terrorists, victims, and security cameras.
The sheer volume of visual evidence is staggering. Partial figures reveal 1,425 videos from Sderot, 1,683 from Nir Oz, 2,383 from Ofakim, 3,274 from the Re’im festival, and a staggering 3,446 from Be’eri. For the armada of Lahav 433 investigators working around the clock, they are acutely aware that they are not just preparing for a trial; they are compiling the definitive judgment of history. With “October 7 deniers” already beginning to surface globally, the police view their work as a preemptive strike against historical revisionism.
Inside the cramped interrogation rooms, the atmosphere is rigidly controlled. Suspects remain shackled by their hands and feet at all times. “There’s no small talk, nothing to break the ice—everything is strictly business,” says Hanhan. Bound by legal protocols that prohibit physical force, investigators rely on methodical evidence presentation to secure confessions. “Our ultimate goal is to build a rock-solid evidentiary foundation so that each individual can be prosecuted for their specific crimes.”
For Wahabi, preparing for these encounters requires studying prior transcripts and harrowing survivor testimonies before ever stepping into the room. “You go in knowing you are sitting opposite human animals who committed unthinkable atrocities,” he notes. “But actually questioning them makes you grasp the true magnitude of the horror.”
Once the questioning begins, investigators observe two distinct patterns of behavior. A minority confess immediately, detailing their actions without a trace of remorse. “I was in an interrogation where one of the terrorists calmly described how he murdered someone within seconds, without any pangs of conscience,” Wahabi recounts. “But most of them try to minimize their role, presenting themselves as if they ‘only’ went in to loot. They speak coldly in the interrogation, but try to say they only came to steal.”
View of cars destroyed by Hamas terrorists during the October 7 massacre, at a field near the Israel-Gaza border. (Chaim Goldberg/Flash90)
“Their motive is very clear. There is deep, multi-year incitement behind this hate,” Wahabi says. “In the interrogations, you hear about a well-oiled machine of incitement against the State of Israel and the Jewish people. You understand that every mosque in Gaza became a recruitment base for young people for Hamas and the Islamic Jihad.
“Very few people go to the mosques in Gaza to truly pray to Allah; the goal there is directing terrorism. In the sheikhs’ sermons, they insert all sorts of Quranic verses and incite them.” Having previously interrogated murderers and pedophiles, Wahabi sees a stark difference in these cases. “The sheer amount of their hate is enormous; they are raised to hate Israel,” he explains. “Their primary motive is hate.”
“There are terrorists who say explicitly in the interrogation that they regret what they did. I don’t know how much to believe it,” says Rahamim. “Some of them come and say, ‘We understand that Hamas played us, we understand that Hamas tricked us and put it into our heads that we need to murder the Jews.’ But I don’t buy it.”
For the investigators, the days are intensive and function as a constant race against time. Driven by the need to secure evidence before crime scenes blur and witnesses’ memories fade, the teams often work 12-hour shifts. The immense scale of the case makes the work exhausting, but the personal proximity to the events adds an undeniable weight to the process.
Rahamim recalls walking into an interrogation room to question a suspect who had invaded the very town where his son’s girlfriend’s family lives, knowing her 16-year-old brother was killed at a nearby beach. “A second before, you take deep breaths, try to disconnect from it emotionally, and maintain professionalism,” Rahamim explains. “The breakdowns happen afterward.”
Workers at the Abu Kabir Forensic Institute in Tel Aviv where hundreds of dead bodies were identified after October 7. (Tomer Neuberg/Flash90)
Hanhan’s exposure to the aftermath began before the interrogations even started. In the days following October 7, she was stationed at the Shura base, tasked with identifying marks on bodies and cataloging jewelry to eventually return to families. Today, she carefully compartmentalizes those experiences, maintaining a strict composure in front of the suspects. But the long hours and isolation take a toll. Relocated to a hotel far from her home in the north, she faces the end of the day alone. “You get to that place where you really just want to get home, to a hug… and it doesn’t happen,” she says. “Your whole day starts and ends with the thoughts: today this is what we investigated.”
Wahabi, a police veteran of over two decades, was sent to the missing persons center in Lod on October 7. He vividly remembers a man from a southern kibbutz arriving to report his sister, her husband, and their three children missing after their text messages abruptly stopped. “No one prepared you, and you don’t know how to deal with such a thing,” Wahabi reflects. Opening files for entire missing families left a lasting mark. “You try to console and do the maximum, but you are torn up inside.”
It is difficult to imagine how one sleeps soundly after days like these.
“I haven’t been able to sleep well for a while now,” confessed Hanhan. “You return home, and you are not the same person. You want to truly disconnect, forget, put everything aside, and act normal. But you can’t. It’s impossible.” She added quietly, “My husband suffers in silence.”
For Wahabi, the professional trauma is intertwined with the personal realities of a nation at war. “My son has been in Gaza since the beginning of the war,” he shared. “To tell you I sleep well? I would be lying. It’s already seeping into my dreams. There is no doubt it affects me.”
Israeli soldiers from the Givati Brigade operating in Beit Lahia, in the northern Gaza Strip, during an Israeli military operation, December 28, 2023. (Yonatan Sindel/Flash90)
Rahamim echoed this sentiment. With one son deployed to the northern border and another to Gaza, returning home offers little respite. “It’s not easy returning home after days like these, especially when we are constantly planning for the day after,” he said. Reflecting on his near three-decade career, the weight of the moment is palpable. “I’m 28 years into the system. This isn’t how I wanted to end my service. Will this be the final investigation? It looks like that’s where it’s heading.”
The investigators are acutely aware of the weight of their task. The entire Lahav 433 division has mobilized for what Rahamim describes as the largest and most significant case they have ever handled.
Beyond the legal process, there is a profound sense of national and historical duty. “You understand that what you are doing will remain for generations,” he explains. “I am not comparing it, God forbid, to the Holocaust—although some of the events are similar—but everything that will ultimately be memorialized from this investigation will accompany us for generations to come.”
