She told him everything, without pausing to take a breath. Her voice shook as she told him how worried she was about Shir’s welfare and how little faith she had in her sister. Roni urged her to share this information with Doron, but she steadfastly refused. She could not bear to make another confession. She was worried about Shir’s fate, but also about Doron’s reaction. They agreed that Naama was dangerous and unpredictable, and so they had to plan their next steps deliberately.
“Right now, Roni, we have no choice. We have to do what my sister wants.” Her tone was decisive, but she couldn’t look him in the eye. “We have to stall as long as we can, until she can disappear. It’ll take two days, maybe three — whatever it takes, just don’t jeopardize Shir,” she concluded.
“Then what?” asked Roni.
“Then I’ll confess. I’ll tell the cops that I had no choice because she took my daughter, and I’ll prove that she did exactly that.” It sounded feasible to her.
“Took your daughter?” Roni could not believe it. “Galia, she kidnapped her. How do you think Doron will react, when he finds out that his daughter was kidnapped and you hid that from him? That you thought you should be the only one to decide Shir’s fate? He has every right to know. She’s his daughter too.”
Galia knew that Roni was right. She had accepted the fact that it might very well be that Doron would never forgive her for this, that these days would be the last that he had any faith in her. Still, as she saw it, there was no other option. They saw Doron, as he watched them through the closed glass door of the balcony. She made Roni promise not to betray her trust, and they went back inside.
The detectives found them there, sitting in the living room. Galia and Roni looked at each other, while Doron opened the door. Seeing the sober faces of the officers, Galia rose to her feet. Roni identified himself right before they turned to Galia and asked her to come with them. The atmosphere was tense. Doron looked at Galia, and so did Roni; his eyes urged her to tell everything to the detectives, to stop her being arrested. The detectives looked at Doron, then turned to Galia.
“Wait a second,” Doron asked them. “I want to speak to Galia privately. We’ll be right back.” He led her to the bedroom, where he stood in front of her and tightly gripped her shoulders. Galia’s body language betrayed that she was holding herself back.
“Why the fuck won’t you talk to me? Tell me something, anything. We’ve been sitting in that living room for an hour, and you haven’t said a word. You have nothing to say? No explanations? I saw you speaking with Roni — what, you can talk to him but not me? Goddamnit, why won’t you talk to me too? I can help you. At least I can try.”
Doron looked forlorn. He looked down as he towered over her, his blue eyes expressing what he felt in his heart. He knew that he could not bear the thought of her being found guilty, of their family being split apart: he, she, and Shir. How could he explain to Shir: “Where’s Mommy? Where’s Mommy?” How could you tell a kindergartener her mother was in prison for committing an unspeakable crime? That she had shot an innocent man in cold blood? No child could absorb such concepts. He was at least relieved that Galia had told him, before he left her earlier — a convenient lie — that Shir was away from the spotlight, that she was spending a few days with Sharona and Noy. She had done well, but nevertheless Doron missed his daughter.
Galia raised her hands, sorely tempted to caress the strong arms which held her, but instead she escaped his grip and moved away from him. She looked straight at him and wondered if she should she tell him? Should she break her promise and endanger her beloved daughter? She remembered her sister’s words threatening her not to reveal anything, and she closed her eyes. I can do this, she told herself. Just a few more days and it’ll all be over, she hoped. She was about to leave the room, utterly ignoring Doron’s questions, as hard as it was.
“My God, you’re not going to answer me? Is that it?” He grabbed her hand and held it, painfully. “Go to hell,” he whispered to her furiously, then left.
Galia gathered her strength, attempting to hide her fear. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror, and she could see the cracks in her self-confidence. Her eyes were red and troubled, her posture was bent. She took a small bag with a few personal items, and she left the room.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Doron. He took a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator and stood to speak with Roni. When Galia approached them, their conversation ended. Doron retreated into the kitchen with one of the detectives. Galia’s gait was shaky as she left the apartment and made her way to the car waiting for her in the parking lot of their luxurious building.
“I’m ready for this,” she tried to persuade herself, as she tried to calm herself down. She leaned back on the headrest, breathed deeply, and closed her eyes.
Chapter Six
The next thirty-six hours were a whirlwind: worrying about Shir, fighting with Roni and Doron, waiting in a prison cell, the hearing, being released to house arrest. She opened her eyes to find herself sitting in her own living room after returning from court, where Roni once again failed to persuade her to tell the truth to everyone.
The previous evening, she had been interrogated at police headquarters. She’d had no new information to offer the detectives, aside from describing how her politics had become more and more extreme recently, due to the planned Disengagement, and that she had acted on her own, out of political ideology. She explained that Infrastructure Minister Ettinger was one of the main architects of the Disengagement. All of their attempts to learn additional details about possible accomplices came to naught, as she had no details to give to them and she was not inclined to invent any. She hoped that confessing to the crime and offering a motive would dissuade the police from investigating further and suffice with arresting only her, but she knew that the odds of that were nil.
All through the night, the interrogation wore on; finally, they decided to bring her before the judges and seek an extension of her arrest. Galia hoped that afterwards, the police would slow the pace of the investigation, and then she would try to secure a bit of time for her sister. However, she had no idea what might happen next.
That afternoon, a police car took her to the Haifa District Court for a hearing about extending her arrest. However, despite the fact that she had pleaded guilty, they had decided to release her to house arrest, as both the police and the GSS had requested.
“What did you think?” Roni asked her while they were waiting for the police car. “You knew that the police would want you out in order to try and capture your alleged accomplices. They will follow your every footstep now, every call you make or receive. They are definitely hoping that your associates will try to contact you in some way.”
Now, at home, she looked through the kitchen window. The hour was late and it was pitch-black outside, but she was aware of the fact that a police car was staking out her residence — as well as an undercover vehicle somewhere in the parking lot. There was also a uniformed police officer outside her apartment. Together, it made her feel imprisoned in her own home. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and wake up in a few days, with Shir at her side…
She could not stop wondering where Shir was, how she was being treated. She was certain that Shir would realize Naama was not her mother. Had she already realized it? What would happen when she did?
Her body was drenched with sweat as she pondered how her sister would deal with the situation, what Naama would do if Shir wanted to return home. She hoped that everything was all right with Shir, and that Naama was taking good care of her.
At that exact moment, Doron entered the office of Deputy Commissioner Udi Fleischer, head of the Department of Investigations and Intelligence at the National Headquarters. They were very close, and since his separation from Galia, Doron had often been a guest at the Fleischer home.
This made the situation extremely awkward and uncomfortabl
e for Udi. Doron immediately noticed the tension in Udi’s face.
“Doron, have a seat. I have to talk to you.” Doron did as Udi suggested, pouring himself coffee from a decanter on the table. “I have some bad news for you.”
“Are you serious, bro? Bad news? What could be worse than my wife being guilty of attempted murder?” His cynical tone was as bitter as the taste of the coffee, which made him grimace.
“Oh, it gets worse. Headquarters will not allow you to conduct the investigation anymore. You’re off the case. You’re too involved. I just left my meeting with the GSS and the head of DII in the Northern District, our friend Dan Aharoni, and we decided that the best thing—”
“The best thing is reassigning me? Kicking me off the case? Damnit, Udi, you know I can do the work better than anyone else…” His voice became hoarse as he was overcome by anger.
“Better than anyone else? How so? Please, explain it to me. How is that possible when you’re personally involved? How can you possibly be objective?” Udi was not eager to reassign Doron, but he knew it was the right thing to do.
Doron leaped to his feet in fury. “You can’t do this to me. Are you crazy? You cannot take this case away from me. My connection to Galia is not relevant at all,” Doron tried desperately to justify his position.
“Not relevant at all? You’ve got to be kidding. You have to admit that when it comes to Galia, you cannot think logically. She’s the only woman who, to be crass, still gets you hard just thinking about her. You think you can do a good job, Doron? Listen, I also think there’s something here that doesn’t smell right, but you heard her plead guilty. This is one time you cannot help her. Let someone else handle it.”
Doron circled the room, his thoughts giving him no rest. He kicked the chair he’d been sitting on, sending it careening to the floor. Udi was right, he knew, about his inability to think straight. In fact, ever since he’d learned about the situation, Doron had been acting impulsively rather than intelligently. But what choice did he have? It was Galia! He knew what he had to do.
“You know what, Udi? You’re right. I cannot do my job here anymore, not as long as the investigation against Galia is ongoing. So I resign!”
Udi blinked in surprise, mouth agape. He had not been expecting this. “Doron, that’s nonsense. Are you trying to give me a guilty conscience? This is just childish.”
“This is not about your conscience, Udi, not at all. What does that have to do with it? You simply cannot ask me to stay here but not get involved in the case.” Doron was determined, Udi could see from the way he glared at him.
“Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent. Did you forget? I let this fucking job get between me and Galia once, but I won’t let it happen again. If I cannot help her as long as I’m here, then I’m leaving. Particularly because I can’t rely on anyone to do the job the right way.”
“Doron,” Udi called out. “That doesn’t mean you can conduct an independent investigation.”
“That’s exactly what it means,” Doron replied determinedly, shutting the door behind him.
Udi roared, “Doron, Doron! Now wait a second…” But Doron simply ignored him and all the looks he was getting from his now-former colleagues. He marched to his office, collected a few things and left the building without a backward glance.
Galia wandered through her home restlessly. This was a new feeling for her.
On her way to the living room, she looked into Shir’s room. On a typical evening at this time, she would be going into the room, covering her daughter with a blanket, lying down next to her and reading her a book. Slowly, Shir would close her blue eyes and drift off to sleep. Then Galia would kiss her on her cheek and leave the room on her tiptoes. Tonight, the room was a bit messy. They hadn’t cleaned it up at bedtime as per usual.
She remembered the last time they’d had a normal morning, as she had hurried and rushed Shir to get ready. Shir couldn’t understand why Mommy was in such a rush, as usual, so she couldn’t think of a reason not to play with her fabulous dolls, dressing them in the finest couture for a new day. The tears flowed freely as Galia bent down and gathered up the dolls which had been abandoned on the pink carpet. Don’t worry, cuties, Galia hoped, Shir will be back soon to play with you. She put them back on the shelf.
She went back into the living room, where it was time for the nightly news. She watched herself leave the courthouse, surrounded by police and private security, as she tried to avoid reporters, photographers, and cameramen, with the aid of her lawyer. Many others crowded around, some denouncing her, others carrying signs calling for continued struggle against the Disengagement. Another reporter, at the hospital, updated the status of the minister and the other shooting victims. There were images from the emergency meetings of the government at Metzudat Ze’ev again, as the prime minister said that he would not bow to threats. No one would be allowed to terrorize public officials, and the security services would take care of these “wild weeds.”
The newscaster went on to describe the confrontations that day between protestors and police, at Golani Junction and Gelilot Interchange. In these confrontations, police officers were injured by rocks thrown at them, and traffic was snarled throughout the area. Even in front of the Knesset, thousands of passionate protestors were gathered under the slogan, “Let the people decide!” They were dancing, singing, waving posters demanding a cancellation of the transfer of Jews, opposing to the evacuation and the uprooting of settlements, and calling for insubordination in the face of orders to dismantle outposts. There were even signs congratulating whoever opposed the current administration — i.e. Galia herself!
This was certainly a call for civil protest against the “violent and dictatorial regime existentially undermining the Jewish people and Zionism.” As the newscaster reported, the police were having trouble identifying those officially responsible for these protests, as these gatherings were taking place without any prior authorization or permit.
Galia looked at what was taking place on the screen and felt her soul cleave in two. On the one hand, she was disgusted by the enraged protestors. She was deeply disturbed by the idea that many saw the assassination attempt as legitimate and proper, endorsing a path so far from her own golden mean. On the other hand, she saw the desperation and distress permeating them at the thought of being thrown out of their homes. She agreed with their position that a referendum ought to determine the government’s next move. Was the burden she felt upon her part of her motivation for pleading guilty to the attack? It was difficult to answer that. Deeply frustrated, she got up and turned off the television.
Guilt. Her bizarre relationship with her twin sister was built entirely on guilt. Once she knew about her sister’s existence, Galia tried everything she could to find her. She even visited the hospitals the day after that fateful protest, searching for her in the corridors of Beilinson and Sheba. After all, her sister had been injured, so she must have been taken to one of the local hospitals. It took two days until she found her — but she still failed to meet Naama face to face, because once she entered the ward where her sister was hospitalized, she encountered a human roadblock which stopped her in her tracks. Young women filled the corridor, modestly dressed in long sleeves and long skirts, holding books of prayer and Psalms. They were surprised by her appearance, and they clearly despised her. She asked and asked, begging to be allowed to meet Naama, but they refused her passage.
“We already know who you are, and you have nothing to look for here,” a tall, blond, young man yelled at her, a large kippah on his head and tzitzit peeking out from beneath his T-shirt. He threw a copy of the previous day’s paper at her, with her article on the protest. In it, she had been critical about the violent, wild behavior of the protestors, but also about the excessive force used by the police. Galia understood their anger, but she managed to leave her card with them, allowing Naama, if she wanted, to conta
ct her.
A few months passed. Galia left the paper, married Doron, sold her mother’s home, moved to Haifa and started working at the paper there. Then one day, Naama called her. Unfortunately, the call was not what Galia had hoped for. Naama, it became clear, had no interest in a true relationship with her sister. All she wanted was money. It appeared that she had learned that Galia had sold Haya’s home, and she wanted Galia to split the money with her. Galia agreed, motivated by a feeling of fairness — and even more so, a feeling of guilt.
They agreed that Galia would use the account which was already in her name and the name of their mother, which had even been used to pay for Grandpa Yehuda’s long stay in a seniors’ residence. It was agreed among them that once in a while, when necessary, Galia would deposit a certain amount of money into this account; a preauthorized payment would then transfer the money to an account Naama gave her the details of. Galia assumed that the account was Naama’s but some years later she would learn that this was an awful mistake.
It was in Galia’s nature to try to understand her sister’s thought process. In the limited conversations they had, Galia tried to reach out to Naama, but the latter rejected any such attempt. “As long as you live, you’ll never understand me. We’ll always be on opposite sides of the barricade…” Galia wanted to know details about their father, but Naama told her in an emotionless voice that Baruch had been dead for years, refusing to give any specifics. In these limited interactions, Galia could uncover no additional details about her sister’s location. It was only after a few years that she managed to reveal a small detail about her.
Forced Silence Page 8
