On Thursday evening, Haaretz and i24 reported that the police say they recommend closing the investigation against Miri Regev. I am, of course, not an objective party, since I was the one who published the original exposé, but I found it strange that they bothered to release this information late on a Thursday evening — a time typically used to bury stories. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but it seemed a little too close to the criticism I voiced just a few hours earlier on Haaretz's “This Week” podcast about how the investigation has been handled — or more accurately, how it hasn’t.
For a year and two months, I made an effort not to comment on the way this investigation was being conducted, so it wouldn’t seem like I was trying to influence it. I also have no idea whether the things revealed in our exposé actually constitute a criminal offense — maybe they don’t. But one thing I’m certain of: there was no investigation.
Two weeks after the exposé aired, the police raided the Ministry of Transportation and took binders and documents. Typically, investigators dive into the material. We’re talking about public funds — budgets for roads, railways — decisions about who gets what and who doesn’t. What usually follows is a parade of interrogations: senior officials from the Ministry of Transportation and members of Regev’s office. None of that happened.
Attorney Amit Hadad, on behalf of Regev, submitted a request to the court asking that the binders not be reviewed. Hadad argued that the minister’s parliamentary immunity also covered the professional documents found at the Ministry of Transportation. It’s a weak argument, and I don’t recall it ever having any effect on similar investigations in the past. Several judicial instances threw out Hadad and Regev’s claims entirely, granting them — at most — immunity over about a binder and a half. But the police made a puzzling decision: until the very last hearing in the final court instance is concluded, they essentially wouldn’t begin the investigation.
There was no legal barrier preventing them from starting to examine the binders that had come from other sources, or from beginning to take witness testimony — but suddenly the police chose to operate by an ultra-strict standard.
Thus, the actual investigation of the key figure in the case — Yonatan Yehosef, Regev’s chief of staff, who took a personal risk by choosing to come forward in the exposé — was conducted at two separate and distant points in time. Only during the second round did investigators actually access all the relevant documents, after they were extracted from the binders.
I have no idea what Yehosef testified, but based on my knowledge of him, I am convinced there’s no way he didn’t tell the truth: that Regev allocated attention and government funds according to a detailed political prioritization chart prepared in her office. Is that a criminal offense? I don’t know. But what I do know is that in order to examine whether the minister’s instructions — documented in those materials — were translated into actual policy (as the exposé seemed to show, with favorable treatment in Ashkelon and neglect in less politically aligned areas like Beit Shemesh), the investigation needed to question senior Transportation Ministry officials, her office staff, and CEOs of government-owned companies under the ministry’s authority. And yet, several key figures were never summoned for police questioning. Others were called in for brief, superficial interviews and sent home.
The central body that should have been investigated is Netivei Israel, which, according to the exposé, received direct orders from the minister’s office and often cooperated with them — even against the recommendations of professional staff. As far as I know, there was no raid on Netivei Israel’s offices, and none of Regev’s close aides — whose fingerprints were thoroughly documented and shown on Hamakor — were detained or investigated.
For most of the 14 months of this “investigation,” the case was handled by a single investigator. That’s a joke for a case like this — which should involve dozens, if not hundreds, of witness statements and cross-referencing of budgets and directives.
If this is what they call an “investigation,” it would’ve been better not to open it at all.