They were more than journalists, they were Gaza’s voice, its heartbeat, its living memory. In a single night, Israeli warplanes struck a journalists’ tent near Al-Shifa Hospital, killing six Palestinian media workers who had risked everything to tell the world of Gaza’s agony. Their cameras fell silent, their final images left unfinished, their words forever suspended in mid-sentence.

Among them was Anas Al-Sharif, a fearless chronicler of Gaza’s suffering, who faced relentless incitement yet never wavered. Alongside him fell Mohammed Qreiqa, Mohammed Noufal, Ibrahim Zahir, Mo’men Alouwa, and Mohammed Al-Khaldi, colleagues bound by their shared mission to give a voice to the voiceless. Their deaths brought the number of Palestinian journalists killed since the start of the war to 238, a toll unprecedented in modern conflict.

Social media erupted in grief, with friends, colleagues, and strangers pouring out tributes. Some remembered Qreiqa as the only son of his mother, who died under siege before he too was killed. Others recalled Noufal’s farewell to his mother, martyred weeks earlier, after which he told Anas: “Now that she’s gone, who will pray for us?” For Anas, his own words echo in the minds of those left behind: “We will not leave Gaza except to heaven.”

In Gaza, they called them the “Knights of Coverage”, men who faced hunger, bombardment, and death, yet refused to lower their cameras. Their loss is not only Gaza’s sorrow but a wound to truth itself, as the world loses voices it cannot afford to forget.