Testimony of Edmond Marom, son and brother:
My parents, Yaakov and Fortuna Mas’eed, (in Israel the family name was changed to Marom) immigrated to Israel in 1956, from Tunis.
We are six brothers and sisters. My abducted sister is the third sibling, between me and my older sister. The three of us were born at Kaplan Hospital in Rehovot. In the early years, we lived in Moshav Zohar, in the Lachish region. Three more children were born after us. My little brother passed away a few years ago from cancer. My father also passed away several years ago.
Our mother, may she live a long life, has lived in sorrow all these years. She does not stop talking about the girl who was kidnapped from her. The girl who was taken from her immediately after the birth, before they could even bestow upon her a name. They just took the girl and then they told her (my mother) that she was dead. They did not show a body, grave, nor did they show any other documents.
My mother did not believe then, and does not believe to this day, that her child is dead. She was angry at my father over the years because he would not talk about it (the kidnapping) as she did. Maybe that was his way coping, but it made her very angry.
Today, my mother is already in her eighties, may she be healthy, and she wants everyone to hear the story of her child's abduction.
When my mother was younger, she would often travel to the United States, where my sister lives. On one of her visits there, she said that she saw someone on the street, who looked like a carbon copy of my older sister. Exactly alike, like two peas in a pod. She could not help but think that maybe this is her daughter. Who knows what fate had in store for her.
I also had an incident when I was 17, it was in the mid-1970s. I will never forget this.
I had accompanied my late father shopping in the Carmel market in Tel Aviv. At a certain point, I was feeling very hungry, and Dad asked me to wait near some grill restaurant that was in the market until he finished shopping. While I was standing there waiting, I heard baby sounds. I looked around and saw a baby girl in a hammock placed inside of a trash can, tired of the crying. I immediately picked the baby up and shouted for my father to come. It was at 14 Sheffer Street, right next to the local police station. Dad said the baby must be handed over to the police, and so I did. I entered the station with the baby in my hands and gave her to the receptionist who said that they will take care of it. I left no details. I know I saved her from death, but I do not know what happened to her. It's something else I carry with me all the time, in addition to my sister's abduction.
It is very important for my mother to tell the story of the abduction of her daughter, my sister. She has been living with very great sadness all these years, and we look forward to the day she will have finally have closure.
Our mother, may she live a long life, has lived in sorrow all these years. She does not stop talking about the girl who was kidnapped from her. The girl who was taken from her immediately after the birth, before they could even bestow upon her a name. They just took the girl and then they told her (my mother) that she was dead. They did not show a body, grave, nor did they show any other documents