Anderson Cooper interviewed Rachel Goldberg-Polin in Jerusalem about the life and killing of her only son, Hersh, who was kidnapped by Hamas on Oct. 7, 2023 and later executed. This is a condensed retelling of their extended 60 Minutes conversation.
The last night and the attack
Rachel remembered Hersh as easygoing and sharp, “on the brink of budding” into adulthood. On Oct. 6 the family walked to synagogue for Shabbat; they blessed him in the traditional way, he kissed his mother and said, “I love you” and “I’ll see you tomorrow.” That was the last time she saw him.
On the morning of Oct. 7 the family woke to sirens. At 8:11 a.m. they received two texts from Hersh: “I love you” and “I’m sorry.” He had sent them from a crowded bomb shelter near the Nova Music Festival, which Hamas attacked. Survivors later described people crammed into a shelter where terrorists threw grenades and sprayed gunfire. Hersh’s left arm is believed to have been blown off by a grenade; video later showed him wounded and being forced into a pickup truck and driven into Gaza.
Months of advocacy and holding on to hope
Rachel and her husband, Jon, spent months advocating for the hostages—meeting leaders, traveling, doing interviews. To mark the passage of time and maintain urgency she wore pieces of tape counting the days the hostages were held. “Hope is mandatory,” she said, because without it she could not have gotten through the 330-day ordeal after Hersh’s abduction. The earliest months were agonizing, full of fear that the hostages were being tortured; when proof surfaced that Hersh had been taken alive it renewed their resolve.
Proof-of-life, propaganda, and the burial
In April 2024 a CIA contact called Rachel with a video showing Hersh alive. It was excruciating but also confirming. Later Hamas released a propaganda video showing the stump of his arm. Families continued to push for action. On day 328 some went to the Gaza border and shouted messages to their loved ones; Rachel screamed blessings and told Hersh they were working day and night. She later learned he had been killed that same day.
Two days later, on day 330, Rachel dreamed of a small olive tree growing through planks with a plaque bearing Hersh’s name. That night Israeli intelligence told the family they had found Hersh among bodies in a tunnel in Rafah. Rachel called the officers “messengers of death.” She described being broken and unable at first to process the finality. Hersh’s funeral drew thousands who lined the streets from the family home to the cemetery. At the grave she screamed, “I’m sorry,” and told him, “Finally, finally you’re free.” Friends warned that she might never be the same; she later came to accept that warning as true.
What Rachel learned from released hostages
In February 2025, a released captive named Or Levy met with Rachel and described time spent with Hersh in a tunnel. Or said Hersh had bled from his wounds, that at one point he was taken to Al-Shifa Hospital where a jagged bone was amputated, and that Hersh repeatedly quoted Viktor Frankl—“when you have a why, you can bear any how.” Or also said Hersh had asked about other families, showing he knew names and cared for others.
Or’s account clarified who Hersh had been with, the early medical neglect, and the mutual support among captive men—efforts to save each other led by men like Ori Danino. Crucially for Rachel, Or confirmed that Hersh had heard his mother’s voice on the news and knew they were trying to bring him home. That confirmation, she said, brought painful comfort.
How Hersh died
Intelligence and Or’s testimony indicate that Hersh and other hostages were executed at close range in a tunnel near Rafah. Hersh’s body showed multiple gunshot wounds. Or described Hersh and Ori Danino as inseparable in the tunnel, with Ori sitting on Hersh’s left to compensate for the missing hand. Hearing two men recount Hersh’s final moments was devastating but, Rachel said, essential.
Continued advocacy after the killing
After burying Hersh, Rachel and Jon kept advocating for the remaining hostages. They felt an obligation to the families and to Hersh’s memory. Rachel spoke of learning quickly how to press leaders, navigate diplomacy and media, and sustain pressure—while also feeling let down by officials who she thought had not acted with necessary urgency.
Grief, faith, and meaning
Rachel described the first 330 days as “the good part” because Hersh was alive; after learning he had been executed she said, “this is the rest of my life,” and that she must live without a piece of herself. She likened the trauma to being hit by an 18-wheeler that parks on top of you. For months she forced herself through each day, repeating that “hope is mandatory.” A morning prayer—“I am grateful to you, creator of the universe, for returning my soul to me. You have tremendous faith in me”—helped sustain her.
She also spoke candidly about faith, saying that the awareness that Hersh “isn’t supposed to be here now” felt like the closest she’d ever been to God. She rejected the idea the loss was punishment and said instead she was left with difficult, unanswered questions about why this happened.
Keeping Hersh present
Rachel has left Hersh’s room as he had it—a young person’s room, poised for life. She reads passages she wrote aloud, talks to him, and sometimes answers questions the way he might have. She called grief “chronic, ever present, constant, gnawing, circular, not linear,” and said it has also become “a precious badge of love,” a continuing relationship rather than something to be finished. Small discoveries—journal entries, friends’ memories—extend her connection to him.
The “tunnel” entry and the tape on the wall
Rachel found a ninth-grade journal entry where Hersh used the word “tunnel” repeatedly, writing about entering a dark tunnel and emerging on the other side. The family called it hauntingly prophetic given his fate. They had marked days with thousands of pieces of tape on a wall and on their bodies while advocating for the hostages; when the returned bodies brought the end of that chapter, removing the tape pulled paint from the wall—“tearing the skin off our house,” Rachel said. She still sometimes reaches for a tape in reflex.
Carrying the why forward
Or’s words—that Hersh knew their voices reached him and that he quoted Frankl—felt like “CPR from beyond.” Rachel said learning Hersh’s mantra in captivity reinforced the power of having a why to bear the how. Her advocacy work and her book, When We See You Again, are efforts to give words to pain, keep memory alive, and help others find language for grief.
A future with grief
Rachel said she doesn’t know if she will ever be “OK” in the usual sense. She describes grief as growth alongside pain—like bamboo that keeps growing—and as a continuing relationship that transforms over time. She still hopes she will see Hersh again in some way, even if she can’t imagine how. Meanwhile she keeps finding ways to live in a world missing a vital part of herself.
This account is a condensed version of the extended interview originally broadcast on 60 Minutes.