Survivor of Israel's attack on Iran's Evin prison describes a 'slow death' after 12-day war

BEIRUT — Sayeh Seydal, a jailed Iranian dissident, narrowly escaped death when Israeli missiles struck Tehran's Evin Prison, where she was held. She had just stepped out of the prison's clinic moments before it was destroyed.

The June 23 strikes on Iran's most notorious prison for political dissidents killed at least 71 people, including staff, soldiers, visiting family members and people living nearby, Iranian judiciary spokesman Asghar Jahangir said Sunday. In the ensuing chaos, authorities transferred Seydal and others to prisons outside Tehran — overcrowded facilities known for their harsh conditions.

When she was able to call her family several days ago, Seydal pleaded for help.

''It's literally a slow death,'' she said of the conditions, according to a recording of the call provided by her relatives, in accordance with Seydal's wishes.

''The bombing by the U.S. and Israel didn't kill us. Then the Islamic Republic brought us to a place that will practically kill us,'' she said.

Activists fear Israel's attacks will lead to crackdown

Iran's pro-democracy and rights activists fear they will pay the price for Israel's 12-day air campaign aiming to cripple the country's nuclear program. Many now say the state, reeling from the breach in its security, has intensified its crackdown on opponents.

Israel's strike on Evin — targeting, it said, "repressive authorities'' — spread panic among families of the political prisoners, who were left scrambling to determine their loved ones' fates. A week later, families of those who were in solitary confinement or under interrogation still haven't heard from them.

Nobel Peace Prize laureate Narges Mohammadi, a veteran activist who has been imprisoned multiple times in Evin, said that Iranian society, "to get to democracy, needs powerful tools to reinforce civil society and the women's movement.''

''Unfortunately, war weakens these tools,'' she said in a video message to The Associated Press from Tehran. Political space is already shrinking with security forces increasing their presence in the streets of the capital, she said.

Fears of a wave of executions

Many now fear a potential wave of executions targeting activists and political prisoners. They see a terrifying precedent: After Iran's war with Iraq ended in 1988, authorities executed at least 5,000 political prisoners after perfunctory trials, then buried them in mass graves that have never been accessed.

During Israel's military campaign, Iran executed six prisoners who were sentenced to death before the war.

The Washington-based Human Rights Activists in Iran documented nearly 1,300 people arrested, most on charges of espionage, including 300 for sharing content on social media in just 12 days.

Parliament is fast-tracking a bill allowing greater use of the death penalty for charges of collaboration with foreign adversaries. The judiciary chief called for expedited proceedings against those who ''disrupt the peace'' or "collaborate'' with Israel.

''We know what that means. That means show trials and executions,'' said Bahar Ghandehari, director of advocacy and media at the New York-based Center for Human Rights in Iran.

Prisoners scattered after the strike

Evin Prison, located in an upscale neighborhood on Tehran's northern edge, housed an estimated 120 men and women in its general wards, as well as hundreds of others believed to be in its secretive security units under interrogation or in solitary confinement, according to Human Rights Activists.

The prisoners include protesters, lawyers and activists who have campaigned for years against Iran's authoritarian rule, corruption and religious laws including enforcement of Islamic attire for women. Authorities have crushed waves of nationwide protests since 2009 in crackdowns that have killed hundreds and jailed thousands.

The Israeli strikes hit Evin during visiting hours, causing shock and panic.

Seydal, an international law scholar who joined protest movements over the past two decades and has been in and out of jail since 2023, recounted to her family her near-brush with death in the prison clinic. The blast knocked her to the ground, a relative who spoke to Seydal said, speaking on condition of anonymity for fear of reprisals.

Visiting halls, the prosecutor's office and several prisoner wards were also heavily damaged, according to rights groups and relatives of prisoners. One missile hit the prison entrance, where prisoners often are waiting to be taken to hospitals or court.

''Attacking a prison, when the inmates are standing behind closed doors and they are unable to do the slightest thing to save themselves, can never be a legitimate target,'' Mohammadi said. She was released in December when her latest sentence was briefly suspended for medical reasons.

During the night, buses began transferring prisoners to other facilities, according to Mohammadi and families of prisoners. At least 65 women were sent to Qarchak Prison, according to Mohammadi, who is in touch with them. Men were sent to the Grand Tehran Penitentiary, housing criminals and high-security prisoners. Both are located south of Tehran.

Mohammadi told AP that her immediate fear was a lack of medical facilities and poor hygiene. Among the women are several with conditions needing treatment, including 73-year-old civil rights activist Raheleh Rahemi, who has a brain tumor.

In her call home, Seydal called Qarchak a ''hellhole.'' She said the women were packed together with no hygiene care and limited food or drinkable water.

''It stinks. Just pure filth,'' she said.

''She sounded confused, scared and very sad,'' her relative said. ''She knows speaking out is very dangerous for her. But also being silent can be dangerous for her.'' On Sunday, Sayeh made another call to her family, saying she was briefly taken back to Evin to bring her belongings. The stench of ''death'' filled the air, her relative quoted her as saying.

The 47-year-old Seydal was first sentenced in 2023. In early 2025, her furlough was canceled, and she was assaulted by security and faced new charges after she refused to wear a chador at the prosecutor's office.

A brother disappears

Reza Younesi's father and younger brother, Ali, have been imprisoned at Evin for years.

Ali, a 25-year-old graduate of a prestigious technical university, was serving a 16-year sentence for "colluding to commit crimes against national security.'' The sentence, widely criticized by rights groups, was reduced but the Intelligence Ministry launched a new case against him on unknown charges.

Days before the strike on Evin, Ali disappeared. He was dragged out of his ward and taken to an unknown location, according to his brother.

After the strike, their father, Mir-Yousef Younesi, saw no sign of Ali as he and other prisoners were transferred to the Great Tehran Penitentiary. The father managed to get a call out to his family, in a panic.

Disappearances in Evin are not uncommon. Guards sometimes remove political prisoners from wards for interrogation. In some cases, they are sentenced in secret trials and executed. After the strikes, Swedish-Iranian academic Ahmadreza Djalali, sentenced to death in 2017, was transferred to an undisclosed location, according to Amnesty International, which expressed fear he could be executed.

Reza Younesi said the family lawyer was unable to find any information about his brother or the new charges.

''When there is no information from a prisoner, this almost in all cases means that the person is under interrogation and torture," he said, speaking from Sweden where he is an associate professor at Uppsala University.

On Monday, a week after the strike, Ali briefly called his mother to confirm his transfer to the Great Tehran Penitentiary, where he is held in a high security ward.

''We at least know that he is alive,'' his brother said.

‘All hope is gone'

Mehraveh Khandan grew up in a family of political activists. She spent much of her childhood and teen years going to Evin to visit her mother, rights lawyer Nasrin Sotoudeh, who was imprisoned there multiple times.

Her father, Reza Khandan, was thrown into Evin in December for distributing buttons opposing the mandatory headscarf for women.

Now living in Amsterdam, the 25-year-old Mehraveh Khandan frantically tried to find information about her father after the strike. The internet was cut off, and her mother had evacuated from Tehran. ''I was just thinking who might die there,'' she said. It took 24 hours before she got word her father was OK.

In a family call later, her father told how he was sleeping on the floor in a crowded cell rife with insects at the Grand Tehran Penitentiary.

At first, she thought the Evin strike might prompt the government to release prisoners. But after seeing reports of mass detentions and executions, ''all this hope is gone,'' she said.

The war ''just destroyed all the things the activists have started to build,'' she said.