Love, Hate and the Legacy of Dr. Benjamin Harouni, z”l

I often describe myself as a hedonist, but after Oct. 7, I’ve been struggling to enjoy many of life’s pleasures. Food seems less enjoyable. Music, which afforded me a chance to lose myself in beloved beats and harmonies, seems less satisfying. 

And as for social media indulgences, whereas I previously escaped to Instagram as a buffer from reality, today, I actively try to escape from Instagram. Recently, I opened the app and the first post I saw featured a headline claiming that Hamas had carried out certain acts that I won’t mention here against deceased female Israeli victims. 

But if everything from food to music has seemed less enjoyable in the last five months, life’s indulgences seem to have lost even more of their pleasures in the last two weeks, since I learned of the heinous murder of Dr. Benjamin Harouni, z”l, a 28-year-old Iranian American Jewish dentist who was allegedly shot and killed by his former patient, Mohammed Abdulkareem, on February 29.

I didn’t know Benjamin personally, although the Sacramento native graduated from my graduate school alma mater, USC. But perhaps because he was a Persian Jew, his shocking death hit particularly close to home. In fact, it is no exaggeration to say that in many ways, my community has been brought to its knees by this tragedy. And seeing photos of Benjamin’s sweet face and warm smile has shattered our collective hearts.

One of the worst aspects of his death is that his family escaped post-revolutionary Iran for the sole purpose of enabling their children to live in freedom and safety.

Benjamin could have been our son, our brother, our cousin, or our friend. And one of the worst aspects of his death — besides the fact that he was so young and described as a true mensch, and that El Cajon police are not ruling his murder as an antisemitic hate crime — is the fact that his Iranian Jewish family escaped post-revolutionary Iran for the sole purpose of enabling their children to live in freedom and safety in the United States. 

The students at USC’s Persian Community at Hillel put it best in an Instagram post, in which they said, “As Persian Jews, our families escaped the Islamic Republic of Iran so we, their children, could live free of religious-based violence. Yet, 45 years later in the USA, we continue to face the same ugly hatred that claimed the life of Dr. Harouni.”

And there’s something else: Benjamin wasn’t gunned down after leaving a synagogue, nor was he in the throes of an anti-Israel rally. (The latter claimed the life of Paul Kessler in Los Angeles last November.)Benjamin was shot and killed at his office, a space he co-owned with his father, Jack, called Smile Plus Dentistry. In an interview, Benjamin’s maternal uncle, Dr. Daniel Sadigh, told me that Benjamin became a dentist “to put a smile on people’s faces.” His father is a dentist and Benjamin had dreamed of following in his footsteps since he was a young boy.

There is something particularly nerve-shattering about knowing that Benjamin was targeted at work; sadly, Jews worldwide have accepted the reality that we face risks on the streets, at universities, synagogues, Jewish community centers, schools and even restaurants and supermarkets. And it is precisely this reality that has convinced many Jews that our homes and places of employment are perhaps the last two vestiges of safety we have left. Benjamin’s murder shattered that false sense of security.

The Jewish community is demanding answers. That includes Benjamin’s brother, Jake Harouni, who posted on Instagram, “Those saying this was not a hate crime need to rethink what they define as hate. As a Persian Jewish American, I have always felt so scared and vulnerable during these times of hatred. Now that it is at my front door, it feels much more real and urgent.” 

At a vigil, El Cajon Mayor Bill Wells pledged, “People have told me that they’re concerned that the city or the FBI or whoever’s in charge may try to sweep this under the rug and treat this as though it were a simple crime. We will get to the truth of what happened.”

For his part, Abdulkareem has pleaded “not guilty” to murder and attempted murder charges (he also shot two other employees at Smile Plus Dentistry & Orthodontics, both of whom survived).

Today, nerves are raw and Jews feel targeted in real, visceral ways not felt since the Holocaust. In fact, Robert J. Williams, the head of the USC Shoah Foundation, recently told JNS, “This is the most dangerous moment for Jews since 1945.”

I understand why many want law enforcement to declare that Benjamin was the victim of an antisemitic hate crime. As Jews, we are particularly traumatized by a history of non-Jews who did not believe us. In recent decades, this has manifested through Holocaust denial. Since Oct. 7, it has risen to the miserable surface in the form of those who continue to deny Hamas atrocities against Israelis, particularly against Israeli women and children. 

We also need others to believe us so that we may shout from the rooftops (yet again) that anti-Israel rhetoric, whether in the form of TikTok videos, grossly false “reporting” that Israel bombed a Palestinian hospital, or guest editorials that claim wholescale “annihilation” of Palestinians in Gaza, results in actual violence against Jews. 

If law enforcement argues that a Jew-killer was deranged or mentally ill, we push back, because we know that such derangement never exists in vacuum, especially in light of the explosion of global antisemitism after Oct. 7. As Jake, Benjamin’s brother, posted, “You can be both deranged AND have hate in your heart.” But in a release, prosecutors claim that Abdulkareem was “well-known” at Smile Plus Dentistry, having repeatedly visited the office in the last six months to complain about dental procedures.

Yes, the community demands answers. But I feel compelled to offer another argument: At the end of the day, identifying the motive for such a hideous crime is vital, but it still does not change the fact that one of our own was brutally taken from us. Benjamin was young, kind, deeply spiritual and deeply loved; he should still be with us today, and nothing that prosecutors can verify or rule out will ever bring him back.

Benjamin’s family sent me a statement that summarized everything best: “We don’t want to directly connect this to antisemitism because it has not yet been proven either direction, and we don’t want it to backfire if it’s proven otherwise and hurt the cause that we are moving forward with,” they said. “At the same time, we are not ruling out the possibility of a hate crime and don’t want this to be dismissed as a matter of convenience.”

I believe that what matters most now is our actions. Through our daily choices, we can elevate Benjamin’s life and legacy. “Ben was a kind soul,” Dr. Sadigh told me, “And justice needs to be served. But Ben’s family is responding to his loss with messages of love. We cannot answer hatred and acts of violence by showing the same thing. That wasn’t Ben’s belief.”

Benjamin’s younger brothers, Gabriel and Jake Harouni, have created a GoFundMe campaign to raise $100,000 to start a charity called “Hearts Over Hate,” which, according to the fundraiser page, will “support families affected by violent crimes, offering them much-needed counseling and support, particularly for those who lack the resources to access these services.” The charity will aim “to foster peace by educating young people and nurturing environments of love and kindness. This proactive approach aims to prevent such tragedies from recurring.” To date, the campaign has raised over $60,000. 

“We hope to utilize Ben’s neshama for this purpose and make it a blessing upon the world,” said Dr. Sadigh. “So many people have been affected by this, but that’s where the love can come out. We hope it will create a glimpse of openness in these dark times.”

Dr. Sadigh estimates that over a quarter of those who attended Benjamin’s funeral were non-Jewish friends from Sacramento. He described the Harouni family as being “so tolerant and embracing, more than anyone I know.” 

Benjamin, who was deeply committed to Judaism, lost his life one week after his 28th birthday. Rabbi Zalman Carlebach, co-director of Chabad of Downtown San Diego, told Chabad.com that many young Jewish professionals are performing mitzvot in Benjamin’s merit. 

“One young Jew here does not even know Benjamin, but has been coming to shul every day to put on tefillin in his honor,” Carlebach said. “Benjamin cannot lay tefillin with his arm anymore, people want to do it in his place.”

To contribute to the GoFundMe campaign, visit www.gofundme.com/f/hearts-over-hate

Tabby Refael is an award-winning writer, speaker and weekly columnist for The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles. Follow her on X/Twitter and Instagram @TabbyRefael