On May 15, 2023, Fady went to work as usual. It was probably a normal day of work—a Monday morning to get things done, working for the construction contracting company he’d been with since 2017.
Fady had studied to be an architect and was good at his job. He was respectful, positive and had a good attitude.
Mohammed also came to work on that Monday. He was from a nomadic group and had only worked at the company for 10 days. He worked as the driver of a bulldozer.
These two men probably hadn’t met on the morning of May 15. But by the end of the day, Fady would be dead—murdered by Mohammed.
Why? “I killed him because he is a Christian,” Mohammed told police. “I hate Christians.”
Mohammed and Fady had never spoken, but Mohammed knew Fady was a Christian. Somewhere along the line, Mohammed came to believe that to be a good Muslim was to hate Christians. And on that day in May, he decided to put that hatred into action.
Hatred in action
Fady was on the worksite, when suddenly Mohammed pointed his bulldozer directly at Fady, trying to run him down. Fady tried to run and hide, but Mohammed followed him and ran over Fady, pushing him through the walls. Mohammed then drove over Fady and didn’t stop until he was sure that the young Christian was dead.
The other workers at the jobsite and even the workplace security couldn’t stop Mohammed. Trying to stop a machine as large as a bulldozer is nearly impossible.
Mohammed was immediately arrested. He confessed and told the police exactly what happened. He bragged about how he killed this “infidel” and “disbeliever.” He remains convinced that killing Fady was a good deed.
Mohammed was jailed for four days and then sent to a mental hospital to receive treatment.
Hope in the grief
Mohammed is not the first murderer of Christians to pretend to have mental issues to escape condemnation and jail. This scenario has played out in Egypt before. And it’s one that’s happened in other places in North Africa and the Middle East.
In a couple of months, Fady will be forgotten and the whole story of the murdered Christian architect will be left to history. Mohammed will then be set free to move on, as if nothing had happened. Maybe when he is released, he will kill other Christians—or maybe other extremists will be encouraged to follow his lead.
The world might forget Fady, but his family and loved ones can never forget. They’re still grieving the death of Fady. He was young, full of life and a devoted Christian. He loved the Lord; he was a helpful and active member in his community. He was faithful to God and his church. His loved ones know that Fady is with Jesus. But they also miss him a lot. He was young; he had dreams; he had a life.
By God’s grace, Fady’s family has decided to forgive Mohammed and pray for him. They want people like him to find peace—and become better people.
But they are asking for justice, because Mohammed or other radical Muslims will kill more Christians, and more families will suffer.
And this is where we come in. These stories are heartbreaking, and justice and hope seem far off. The words of Psalm 94 seem horrifically relevant:
“Rise up, Judge of the earth;
pay back to the proud what they deserve.
How long, Lord, will the wicked,
how long will the wicked be jubilant?”
There isn’t a happy ending for Fady’s story. We are grateful that his family has chosen not to dwell in bitterness, but we know how much pain they’re in. These stories, instead, show us the reality of what our brothers and sisters around the world endure—and what the cost of following Jesus can be.
But: We do not serve a God of hopelessness. We may never know why these things happen—why God didn’t stop Mohammed’s bulldozer or let Fady get away. But we know God grieves with Fady’s loved ones. And we cling to His promises that eventually He will put things right and wipe away every tear from every eye.
We must lift up Fady’s family in prayer—and lift up the Christian community of Egypt and elsewhere where believers are targeted by such senseless violence. Ask God to intervene, to change hearts and to bind up the wounds of the hurting. Join Fady’s family in praying for justice. And pray that, for all of us, God would make real another part of Psalm 94:
“But the Lord has become my fortress,
and my God the rock in whom I take refuge.”
Editor’s note: This story is based on accounts from Fady’s family as told to Open Doors’ partners