How two American families became activists after Hamas captured their sons

One hundred and three days after Omer Neutra was captured by Hamas, his parents, Ronen and Orna, found themselves in the basement of the United States Capitol, looking for an exit. Andrea Mitchell, the NBC News journalist, stood next to them, eager for an interview. Standing next to Ms. Mitchell were two Senate staffers, tasked with delivering the Neutras to meetings with their bosses.

It would be the second media interview of the morning for the Neutras and for Yael and Adi Alexander, whose son Edan is also being held captive by Hamas. The two families have worked together for months to build political pressure to free their sons, an effort that on this day would include a face-to-face meeting with Joni Ernst, a Republican senator from Iowa, and a rally with dozens of members of Congress for a candlelight vigil.

“I have walked more distance in these hallways than in my own house,” Ronen Neutra, 59, said of his experiences over the past four months. “I can't believe this is our life.”

Hamas captured more than 240 people when it attacked Israel on October 7. About 100 hostages, most of them women and children, were released during a ceasefire in November, and Israeli officials say at least 30 others are believed to have died in captivity. This may leave about a hundred people alive, most of whom are Israeli citizens.

The remaining soldiers include a number of Israeli army soldiers, such as Mr. Alexander and Mr. Neutra. The young men, both American-Israeli citizens who had both grown up a short train ride from Manhattan, were serving together at the same military outpost the morning of the attacks.

For the Neutras and the Alexanders, the capture and imprisonment of their sons brought their families into a new, public life. Families fly to Israel or Washington almost every week. They spent two hours with President Biden at the White House, where he cried with them and gave them a tour of his private offices. Ronen Neutra flew to Qatar to meet Prime Minister Sheikh Mohammed bin Abdulrahman bin Jassim Al Thani; Ms. Alexander met privately with the sheikh in Washington.

The two families share one urgent goal: the immediate release of their sons. So they have turned their lives upside down, endured fatigue and given up their privacy to keep their sons' shared fate at the forefront of policymakers' attention.

Their activism is choreographed in part by some of the world's most skilled and influential lobby groups and consultants. The families, new to politics but well aware of the politicization of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, understand that they must avoid alienating any politician who might one day help bring their sons home, while constantly debate whether they should be more aggressive.

As Israel's war effort becomes more unpopular in the United States — the war has killed more than 28,000 people in Gaza, according to health officials there — the families are responding to growing criticism of Israel by not responding. They take no position on Israeli war tactics or a possible two-state solution. And they try to avoid criticizing Hamas, as their advisers warn it could further endanger their sons.

“We mainly get pressure from the Israeli press,” said Adi Alexander (52). “They want us to become more political and say which politicians should resign. But that's not our place.”

Omer Neutra and Edan Alexander are two of the six Americans controlled by Hamas.

Their families have received no information about their medical conditions, and no evidence that the young men are still alive. Their only insight comes from the Israeli government, which has told the families there is no evidence the soldiers are dead.

Mr Neutra is 22, two years older than Mr Alexander. Both are the sons of dual Israeli-American citizens. They met in the summer of 2023, when Israeli soldiers were stationed near the Gaza border, at a military outpost the size of a suburban Walgreens back home.

As a boy on Long Island, Mr. Neutra's louche ways hid his seriousness, his parents said. He became captain of the volleyball and basketball teams at the Schechter School of Long Island, a private Jewish school, and president of the Metro New York chapter of the United Synagogue Youth group. He moved to Israel, joined the Israeli army and chose to serve in a tank brigade, partly because he had heard that it was one of the army's toughest jobs.

Mr. Alexander grew up in New Jersey, where his powerful backstroke made him a star on the Tenafly High School swim team. Boys liked his jokes; girls loved his gentle smile and sensitive eyes. During his senior year in 2022, he joined Garin Tzabar, an Israel Scouts program that prepares youth from around the world to join the Israel Defense Forces. He was assigned to the infantry and arrived at the small base near Gaza in September.

When Hamas attacked, Mr. Neutra drove two miles to the border, where Hamas militants ambushed his tank with rocket-propelled grenades. More militants surrounded the outpost, where Mr. Alexander stood alone with his rifle.

Both were captured.

Their parents used videos of the attack posted online by Hamas militants, plus conversations with Israeli military officials and members of their sons' units, to piece together how the men were captured.

Unlike civilian hostages, captured soldiers are considered prisoners of war, a class that is protected but also accepted under international law, including the Geneva Accords. (Israeli and Hamas leaders accuse each other of torture and other practices that violate these agreements.)

To their parents, Mr. Alexander and Mr. Neutra are not so different from their civilian counterparts who were taken hostage.

“They were forcibly taken during a peaceful situation,” Ms Neutra said. “Israel was at peace. They all need to come home.”

Four months after the attack, Yael Alexander grabbed a pack of Marlboro Ultra Light 100s and a can of Diet Coke at her home in Tenafly, walked into her garage and opened the garage door. She lit a cigarette and saw a cold rain pattering on the driveway.

“I was a smoker in the army,” said Ms. Alexander, 44, who served in the Israeli army in her 20s. “I obviously stopped because of the children. But now I'm starting to smoke again. This is the only time I can really breathe.”

Later that morning, she stood outside in the rainstorm and addressed a crowd of 500 supporters in downtown Tenafly.

“We miss your laugh, and your beautiful smile, so very much, Edani,” she said, reading the words from her iPhone as her husband held an umbrella over her head.

Her message – free of politics, delivered as if she were speaking directly to her son – followed advice from consultants at SKDK, a well-connected PR firm in Washington. SKDK is paid by the Hostages and Missing Families Forum, which was founded after the Hamas attacks and has raised millions of dollars in donations.

America's families realized within days of Oct. 7 that they needed advice from people who understood the power in Washington, Mr. and Mrs. Neutra said. Their goal was to use their status as Americans to keep Congress and the White House focused on the safe return of the hostages.

The families interviewed three consulting firms for the job. They chose SKDK partly because of its experience with previous hostage negotiations, and partly because the firm's roster includes Kendra Barkoff Lamy, who served as Mr. Biden's press secretary for more than four years when he was vice president.

“They take us by the hand and drive around,” Mr. Neutra said. “It's very useful. Without it we would be lost.”

Ms Lamy and a spokesperson for SKDK declined to discuss the company's role with the families.

The Neutras own a company that makes scientific equipment. Mr. Alexander works as a diamond dealer in Manhattan. Both families live comfortably, but neither could afford SKDK's fees on their own.

In addition to their regular trips to Israel and Washington, the Neutras recently flew to Utah, where they met celebrities attending the Sundance Film Festival, they said. When they need to travel, Mr. Neutra says, he texts volunteers on the forum, who plan each trip, book hotel rooms and pay for the flights.

Organizational efforts also include the American Jewish Committee, an advocacy group that helps schedule meetings with political leaders, and Gilbert LLP, a law firm that uses its offices a few blocks from the Capitol when the families visit Washington.

The goal is to “maintain this issue as a top global humanitarian priority until every hostage returns home,” Ted Deutch, the commission's CEO, said in a written statement.

As a recent gray Friday turned blue with dusk, Orna Neutra opened the refrigerator in her home in Plainview, Long Island. She brought out containers of couscous, chicken in wine and a chocolate cake.

The food was prepared by friends, who organized themselves to cook most of the couple's meals after the Neutras' new life left no time for grocery shopping. Within minutes, the Neutras brought the food to a friend's house for Shabbat dinner.

It was also dusk on Friday evening when the Neutras enjoyed video chats with Omer, who called from his army post in Israel. They played backgammon together. Eomer always won.

“This is the moment we miss him the most,” said Mrs. Neutra, 54.

And so the parents wait, and fear, and prepare for the reunion they claim will come. To accommodate all the guests they want to invite, both families purchased new, larger dining tables. The Neutras recently flew to Israel to rent an apartment. When Omer is released, they hope, he will have a place to go.

“We wanted to create the reality that he is coming home very soon,” Mr. Neutra said.