With the return of a Thai worker’s body from Gaza, Israel now waits only for the remains of police officer Ran Gvili, and Netanyahu vows Israel will do whatever is required to bring him home.

The identification this week of the body of Thai agricultural worker Sudthisak Rinthalak, returned from Gaza under the terms of a fragile ceasefire, marked a grim and narrowing milestone in Israel’s two-year struggle over hostages and remains. After repeated mediated exchanges, dozens of returns, and countless delays, Israel now awaits the recovery of one final body: that of police officer Ran Gvili, murdered on October 7, 2023.

For the government, for the security services, and for much of the public, the return of Gvili has become a matter not only of humanitarian concern but of national principle. The fact that a single fallen serviceman remains in the hands of Gaza terrorists has intensified political resolve at the highest level. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, addressing the matter with uncharacteristic bluntness, said Israel “will do all that is necessary to ensure his return,” framing the issue as both a moral obligation and a foundational ethos. In Israel’s military culture, the fallen are not abandoned. There is no closure while one remains beyond the border.

The handover of the latest body from Gaza was initially accompanied by uncertainty. A coffin arrived under ceasefire protocols, and Israeli forensic teams stood ready to determine whether the remains might be Gvili’s. Within hours, DNA testing confirmed otherwise. The body belonged to Rinthalak, one of the Thai workers targeted and killed during the Hamas massacre of October 7. Israeli authorities expressed condolences and reaffirmed their responsibility toward foreign laborers who died on Israeli soil, many while performing low-wage agricultural jobs that underpin Israel’s farming economy.

Yet the identification left one stark fact: all bodies taken into Gaza that day have now been returned except Gvili’s. For his family, the prolonged wait is agonizing. His sister has said publicly that they are “ready for him to come home” and that the drawn-out back-and-forth of negotiations, mediators, and political calculations has long since lost relevance. What remains is the need for burial, mourning, and finality.

According to security officials, Gvili fought at Kibbutz Alumim in the early hours of the attack, running toward gunfire as terrorists stormed the community. He was overpowered and dragged into Gaza. Months later, Israel confirmed his death, but the body has been withheld despite multiple commitments by Hamas across several negotiation cycles. Mediators conveyed repeated assurances that the body would be returned, yet every deadline passed without delivery.

Israel has grown increasingly firm in its messaging. Officials have told intermediaries that the ceasefire’s entire humanitarian framework depends on full compliance, including the return of the last remaining body. Throughout the war, militants have used the withholding of remains as leverage, extracting political and psychological value in every exchange. With the return of Rinthalak, Israeli leaders signaled that such tactics will no longer be tolerated.

Security circles describe Gvili’s case as symbolic of a wider truth: the young defenders who confronted heavily armed infiltrators on October 7 represented the state at its most exposed yet most determined. Bringing him home, officers say, is not only about honoring his sacrifice but also about reaffirming the compact between Israel and its defenders. Families of fallen soldiers and police officers have echoed the sentiment, insisting that the state must remain unwavering.

Public sentiment reflects rare national consensus. Even critics of the government agree that retrieving the final body is essential. Without it, the chapter of October 7 remains open and raw. Israeli society carries long memories of the cost of war and the pain of unresolved cases. In synagogue prayers, in community gatherings, and across the media, the idea persists that one cannot turn the page while a single son of Israel remains in enemy hands.

Meanwhile, the forensic institute stays ready. Any report of a possible transfer sets its teams into immediate motion. The Defense Ministry has refined identification protocols to ensure that, if and when Gvili is returned, the process will be swift and dignified.

The strategic landscape around Gaza remains volatile. The ceasefire holds, but its durability depends on factors far beyond the single issue of remains. Nonetheless, the Gvili case transcends politics. It has become a test of resolve, identity, and memory.

Israel waits for the last body. The country has buried hundreds murdered on that day and the months that followed. It has welcomed home hostages, mourned those who did not survive captivity, and tried to rebuild some semblance of national balance. But for many Israelis, the final accounting of October 7 cannot be completed until Ran Gvili is returned for burial among his own.

Netanyahu’s vow — that Israel will do whatever is necessary — mirrors a sentiment broadly shared: the duty to bring every fallen defender home. When that final transfer occurs, Israel will be able to close a painful ledger. Until then, the waiting continues, heavy and unresolved, with one name still missing from the long list now brought home.