The right to escape does not exempt one from responsibility for the consequences

The disappearance of two women from Jerusalem, which stirred the entire country, raises many important questions—one of which is the responsibility of the missing persons to pay for the huge and expensive search operation conducted on their behalf. What began as natural concern by family members turned into a large-scale search operation that crossed borders and required significant resources, manpower, time, and money.

Ultimately, a much larger question arises here than the whereabouts of the two women: what is the responsibility of those who simply disappear, assuming they know the whole world is looking for them? Should a person who knowingly causes the continuation of an unnecessary search, while knowing they are safe and could have notified authorities, bear at least part of the expenses incurred? We are, after all, talking about millions of shekels.

There is no dispute that an adult is entitled to choose to distance themselves. They are entitled not to be in contact with their family, to leave the country, and even to start a life elsewhere. Not every disappearance is a crime, and not every person who does not want to be found should become the target of an international search operation. But this freedom does not exempt one from responsibility.

If the two women knew that a search was being conducted, that their family was worried, and that the police were investing resources, they had, at the very least, a clear moral obligation to notify that they were alive. They were not obligated to reveal their location, return home, or renew contact with family members. A short message—"We are okay. Do not look for us"—could have been enough.

Assuming they knew about the massive search operation launched for them, they may have also had a legal obligation called the duty to mitigate damages. Under these circumstances, when a person knows that their private decision is causing others to operate an entire system based on a false assumption—that they are in danger, kidnapped, or harmed—it is appropriate that they act to stop the damage. Especially when the price is not paid by them, but by all of us. After all, every shekel the state spends has an alternative use. Money directed toward searching for a person who chose of their own free will to disappear could be directed by the police toward more important goals.

Of course, the police cannot turn every disappearance of an adult into a worldwide operation. Before activating public resources on such a scale, difficult questions must be asked: what is the level of risk? Is there an indication of criminal activity or kidnapping? What is the chance that the operation will achieve its goal? Perhaps this is the most important lesson from this affair: one must know when to search, and one must also know when to stop searching.

If it turns out that a person is found alive, is not in danger, and chose of their own free will to disappear, one must respect their freedom. Let them escape. But if they know they are being searched for, the minimum that can be asked of them is to pick up the phone. Then, millions of shekels of public resources could have remained where they are really needed. The conscious silence of the two women, given the well-founded assumption that they knew they were being searched for, may establish a tortious cause of action and, above all, justifies a discussion on the duty to reimburse search expenses. The public should not have to pay for this, too.