The police decision to release the recording of Gil-ad Shaer's call to the Kiryat Arba-Hebron police dispatcher (in which he is heard saying "I've been kidnapped"), long after the fact and at this particular time, feels clumsy and coarse. For 19 days, the Shin Bet security agency sat on this red-hot recording, tucked away in some safe. But just when Israel as a nation wanted to empathize with the families of the three dead boys, just when the public wanted to support the inconsolable mothers seeking some kind of justification for their bitter fate, that is the moment that it was decided to release the tapes of this stinging conversation. Any moment prior to the funerals would have been a better time to release the tapes. Any moment after the funerals would have been more appropriate as well. But not during the funeral, while masses mourned at the Modiin cemetery. You can't play a violin with three broken strings. You can't play back the voice of a boy while the nation accompanies him to his final resting place. At the sound of the recording, one can't help but feel that an opportunity was missed, that the dispatcher did not make enough of an effort to save the boys' lives. It is a feeling that verges on rage. However, there were extenuating circumstances that must be noted in the dispatcher's defense: In the original recording, it was very difficult to hear the words Gil-ad was saying -- the recording that was released to the public had been extensively cleaned of background noises in a police forensics lab. In addition, the dispatcher tried to call the number back, but the call went unanswered. Third, it is well established that routine is a guard's worst enemy. The verse "He that keepeth Israel doth neither slumber nor sleep" (Psalms 121:4) came into being because of our basic human nature to fall asleep on the job. That is precisely what happened on that tragic night near Alon Shvut at the entrance to Halhul. But all these extenuating circumstances are not enough to vindicate the police, because the recording also included the sound of men speaking in Arabic, and speaking in Hebrew with Arabic accents. There were gunshots heard as well. Those things should have been enough to prompt the police to summon every rescue outfit available. Certainly all these things together should have prompted more action, and for that, there is no excusing the officers, who have been promptly suspended from the force. If a muffled whisper in Hebrew followed by voices speaking in Arabic wasn't enough to spark a dispatcher's concern, what is? Whatever happens, it seems, the dispatcher will always assume that someone is playing a prank or trying to harass the police. Police Commissioner Yohanan Danino was right to dismiss those officers, but further action should be taken as a result of that chilling recording. The necessary conclusions must be drawn and new, efficient protocols must be instated to prevent such a tragedy in the future. Some of the conclusions are self evident: Police officers must always partner up; every pair should include a veteran officer, who knows how to identify what is important, and a rookie officer, who is alert, hesitant and curious. Every dialogue between two such officers will invariably increase the chances of a better outcome. And another rule must be instated: In the event that both the veteran and the rookie are not certain whether the call is real, they must take it to a higher-ranking officer. As they say in the Air Force: If there's doubt, there is no doubt.
