Dylan Collins, a 37-year-old American camera operator for Agence France Presse (AFP), never imagined that his commitment to documenting conflict would lead to a near-fatal encounter on the Lebanese-Israeli border. On October 13, 2023, as Collins and six other journalists monitored military activity in Alma al-Shaab, southern Lebanon, Israeli tank fire shattered the relative calm, forever altering their lives and igniting a debate about the safety of journalists in war zones and the accountability of governments.
According to NPR and el-Balad, the group of international journalists, all wearing flak jackets and helmets clearly marked ‘PRESS’, were gathered to report on the escalating clashes that followed Hamas’s October 7 attack from Gaza into southern Israel. In solidarity with Gaza’s militants, Hezbollah had launched rockets from Lebanon, drawing Israeli military attention to the border region. Collins, who was operating a live video feed and texting a colleague, described the moment the first shell landed: “This big, big explosion hit. My colleague, Christina, was behind me and I just heard her voice, she was screaming.”
Christina Assi, a Lebanese photo editor for AFP, suffered catastrophic injuries from shrapnel to her right calf. “What happened? I can’t feel my legs!” she cried out, as Collins rushed to her side, sliding a tourniquet up her leg in a desperate attempt to stem the bleeding. The chaos escalated when a second tank shell struck, this time hitting an Al Jazeera vehicle just six feet away from Collins. The car exploded, and Collins himself was peppered with shrapnel in his head, arms, and torso. Tragically, Issam Abdallah, a cameraman with Reuters, was killed instantly.
Such violence against journalists has become all too common in modern conflict zones, but the circumstances surrounding this attack have drawn particular scrutiny. Human Rights Watch and the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) reviewed video and audio evidence, including footage that revealed a drone circling the journalists’ position 11 times in the 25 minutes preceding the strike. According to these organizations, there was no way the Israeli military could have mistaken the group for combatants. CPJ, Amnesty International, and Human Rights Watch have all condemned the attack, classifying it as a war crime and asserting that it was deliberate.
The Israeli government, for its part, insists the incident is still under examination and denies intentionally targeting journalists. However, Collins says he has not received any direct communication from Israeli officials. As he told NPR, “I thought my government would fight for me... but I certainly expected more than nothing.” His disappointment is palpable, especially considering the gravity of the attack and the clear markings that identified the group as press.
Collins’s quest for answers has taken him from Lebanon to Washington, D.C., where he has met with the U.S. State Department and the FBI. Yet, nearly two years after the attack, he remains frustrated by what he perceives as a lack of meaningful action or support from American authorities. “A staffer for a current cabinet member in the Trump administration told me that if I had been killed, they might have been able to put out a statement, but because I’d only been wounded, it would be pretty tough,” Collins recounted to NPR. That cold calculation underscores the challenges journalists face when seeking redress from their own governments.
Vermont’s Congressional delegation, representing Collins’s home state, has taken up his cause. In 2024, they wrote to the State Department, urging an independent investigation under the War Crimes Act and highlighting the urgent need to protect U.S. citizens working in dangerous environments. Their letter stated, “Far too many journalists and other civilians have been killed and injured since the October 7 Hamas terrorist attacks. We have no higher priority than the safety and security of U.S. citizens.” The State Department responded by affirming that it had called on Israel to investigate and would continue to press for “appropriate accountability.” Still, for Collins, these assurances ring hollow.
Christina Assi’s ordeal has been equally harrowing. She endured 30 surgeries and spent three months in intensive care before receiving a prosthetic leg. Despite these hardships, Assi is determined to return to the field as a photojournalist. From her home outside Beirut, she offered a chilling assessment: “It’s systematic, it’s a plan. The intention is purely to scare and kill, basically, journalists. And they’ve been doing so with pure impunity because they know that no one will hold them accountable.”
The attack that wounded Collins and Assi and killed Abdallah is not an isolated incident. The CPJ reports that at least 246 journalists and media workers have been killed in Gaza and the region since the war began. The risks are mounting, and the lack of accountability only compounds the danger. International organizations have repeatedly called for stronger protections for journalists, but tangible progress remains elusive.
For Collins, the personal and professional toll has been immense. He describes himself as a reluctant spokesperson, far more comfortable behind the camera than in front of it. Yet, compelled by a sense of duty to his fallen and injured colleagues, he has become a public advocate for press freedom and accountability. His efforts, including a recent press conference with members of Congress outside the U.S. Capitol, are part of a broader push to ensure that attacks on journalists are investigated and prosecuted when warranted.
The wider context of U.S.-Israeli relations complicates matters further. As Israel’s top ally in the Middle East, the United States provides substantial military aid and political support. Critics argue that this relationship makes it politically inconvenient for Washington to press Israel too hard on issues of accountability, especially during periods of heightened conflict. Collins himself speculated, “Maybe it’s not politically expedient to do so.”
Meanwhile, the Israeli government maintains its stance, denying deliberate targeting and emphasizing its ongoing internal investigation. But for those who survived the attack, and for the families of those who did not, these reassurances offer little comfort. The sense of impunity, as Assi put it, remains a persistent and deeply troubling reality.
As the debate continues in diplomatic corridors and international forums, the human costs of inaction are undeniable. Journalists like Collins and Assi risk their lives to bring crucial information from the world’s most dangerous places. Their experiences raise uncomfortable questions about the value placed on press freedom and the willingness of governments to defend it when it matters most.
For now, Dylan Collins and Christina Assi press on—one advocating in the halls of power, the other preparing to return to the front lines with a prosthetic leg and unbroken resolve. Their courage, and their demand for justice, serve as a sobering reminder of the perils faced by journalists and the urgent need for meaningful accountability.