The sight of Evin Prison’s front gate after an alleged Israeli airstrike brought tears to my eyes. I was once held hostage by the Islamic Republic within those walls, a place known for its brutality and devoid of hope.
However, my tears were not of joy. I didn’t rejoice at the thought of those responsible for my solitary confinement potentially facing retribution. My heart ached at the thought of the innocent prisoners, some of whom I shared years of confinement with, and the suffering their families must be enduring.
This center of injustice housed more than just villains. The bombs made no distinction between corrupt officials, political prisoners, or the young conscripts guarding them. Were human rights lawyers, who bravely defended the vulnerable within those halls, among the victims? How many janitors and clerks, commuting from Tehran’s poorest areas, are now dead or injured? And what of the families in the waiting area, like my own mother once was, pleading for visits, medicine, or confirmation that their loved ones were even inside Evin?
Israel’s bombs also struck the infirmary, where I and many others sought medical attention. I recall the desperation there, but also the quiet acts of bravery. What happened to the young female doctor I called “Superhero,” who bravely entered the women’s ward during the pandemic and forced a reluctant warden to send a political prisoner with severe COVID-19 to a hospital, saving her life? I remember many instances of the infirmary staff helping prisoners discreetly. Their quiet compassion helped us endure and survive. Now, that infirmary is in ruins.
Ward 4, housing many political prisoners and foreign or dual-national hostages, was also damaged, including the library, our main sanctuary, where I spent most of my time. The women’s ward was also affected. Immediately after the strike, political prisoners were rounded up, placed on buses, and taken to an undisclosed location without their belongings. Terrified families are frantically calling each other, desperately seeking news and praying their loved ones are alive.
What about the visitation center, also damaged in the bombing? How many prisoners, families, and lawyers were hurt there? What became of the kind monitor who allowed my mother to stay longer than the allotted 20 minutes, saying it was all he could offer a family enduring so much injustice?
This was not a precise strike targeting high-ranking regime officials or military leaders in their luxurious homes. Those bombs certainly won’t weaken or topple the Islamic Republic. Quite the opposite. A former political prisoner reports that families of prisoners, guards, and administrators are gathering outside the prison, desperately seeking news of their loved ones and grieving together.
Israel’s bombing of Evin exposes the consequences of two reprehensible systems colliding: one that imprisons the innocent, and another that claims to liberate them with bombs. We can only hope the recent de-escalation between Iran, Israel, and the United States holds, and that this madness ends.
But even if it does, we know what will follow. The Ayatollahs, failing to stop the bombs from Israel or the U.S., will seek revenge internally. They will try to regain control through brute force. Thousands will be rounded up, tortured, and executed as the regime uses fear to survive. Already-persecuted communities will likely be among the first to suffer.
As always, the most innocent will pay the highest price.
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