Dalia's testimony:

My parents immigrated from Iraq in 1933. The child David was born in Hadassah Hospital in Tel Aviv in 1936/7. He was 2 years old at the time of the incident. In those years my mother's sister and her husband assisted her, they were called Sarah and Ezra Atzlan, and they were religious. The helped with the Hebrew language, with some familiarity with Tel Aviv and the Jewish holidays, since they had immigrated to Israel three years earlier. They lived with my parents in Zvulun Street in Tel Aviv and later moved together to Hakhaluzim St. in Tel Aviv for a few more years. I was born ten years after David. Later, my family moved to Emek-Izrael Street in Tel Aviv and from there, in 1953, we moved to North Tel Aviv.

On the day the child David was unwell, my aunt Sarah had taken charge of the care arrangements. David was rushed to Hadassah Hospital, and at reception my aunt explained that suddenly he could not stand up. The family feared that he had Polio. The next day, when my aunt went to visit him, she was told that David died and that he had typhoid. My aunt did not see a body and was not told where he was buried or any other detail.

My older sister, Hannah, who died 10 years ago, seemed to have searched for a grave in a few cemeteries, including Nahlat Yitzhak cemetery. She was attached to him and remembered him. One day she poured her heart out to me in Givata'im, where she lived, while pointing in the direction of Nahlat Yitzhak Street. She said she had been looking for his grave for years after she heard from acquaintances that she should look at Nahlat Yitzhak. I believe she searched again, but to my understanding she did not find anything, otherwise, she'd have let the family know.

After my older sister died photographs emerged in her house and I saw a photograph of David for the first time. The conversation between my sister and myself about looking for the grave was a one-off; there was no continuity. Her death was sudden after she fell, and to my regret, she never found out that there was indeed an issue of kidnapped children that was in the media headlines. She would have fought over any piece of information to find out if it was connected to David's disappearance. My parents did not speak of it. I know they hoped for a son in all my mother's pregnancies to follow, and at the last one, they got their wish.

When I became aware of the discourse over the children who disappeared (my parents were no longer alive then) I started wondering where David was buried, or whether he was buried. One of my sisters, who is over 90 now, also had polio as a child, and she survived and was blessed with a long life, hence the doubts and questions.

In summary, I learned from my sister Hannah that there is a mystery here, of a 2-year-old baby who was hospitalised and had gone with the wind, just like that, and nobody was taken to task. My sister looked for the grave and was preoccupied with it. We did not think at the time that there were kidnapped children from Iraq, too, but when we realized that the family did not see his body and that other similar cases in those years were shrouded in mystery, doubt started arising about the information we were given. I was attentive to the media and decided to make a plea and try to expose the wrong (and that's an understatement) that was done to my family.