When we meet Vicki, she is clinging to an Israeli flag, her eyes moist with half-formed tears.
Across the road, a podium is being prepared. Before long, a rabbi will deliver an address in memory of Guy Illouz, a man Vicki never met but who she now comes to mourn.
“We are family in this country,” she says. “I know him, but he doesn’t know me. We are all responsible for each other, so that’s why I am here today. This is my duty.”
She has attended previous such occasions, including the funerals of Ariel and Kfir Bibas, the small children whose bodies were returned from Gaza in February.
She was once sure that Israel could live in peace with Gaza, but that certainty has been shaken by images of October 7 that rest in her mind.
‘Barbaric, inhuman’
Everyone in the world, she tells me, should watch the films that collate images and video footage of the attacks.
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“We didn’t do that. They did that, and they were horrible. They were very barbaric, inhuman. I didn’t believe there could be such people.
“I thought we could make peace, but they acted like savages.”
Those who knew him best paint a picture of Guy as an understated man who loved music, his family and his friends.
On October 7, he was shot in his car as he tried to flee.
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His oldest friend, Alon Werber, died alongside him; Guy was taken to Gaza, but died as a result of his injuries.
A small, unassuming panel van drives up. The rear doors are opened and there, lying in the back, is the coffin, an Israeli flag tightly wrapped around it.
It is such an incongruous sight. A plywood box is in place next to the coffin, presumably in order to stop it moving around.
The van itself is painted blue, and looks nothing like a hearse. Yet this is a body, a coffin, and a person that has been the focus of so much attention.
It moves off slowly, the doors still open. A crowd walks along behind, some crying, many waving Israeli flags.
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Among them is Carnit Koriat. I ask her to describe her emotions.
“It is indescribable,” she says. “You cannot believe those last two years, when sometimes we didn’t want to live. Yes, I am happy to see the live hostages back but we cannot forget the ones who were left behind.
“The least we can do – the minimum we can say – is that we are sorry that we couldn’t bring them back here alive.”
