A devastating toll: the human cost of Israel’s strike on Tehran's Evin Prison

On June 23, Israel launched several missiles at Tehran’s Evin Prison, describing the notorious site as a “tool of repression.” While some Iranians initially celebrated the strike, the human cost has been heartbreaking.

Evin Prison, long a symbol of Iran’s political repression, was rocked by explosions that destroyed key facilities, including several wards, its infirmary, and the visitation hall — with immediate and devastating consequences.

Among the dead were two prison officials, Ruhollah Tavasoli and Vahid Heydarpour, as well as Evin's top prosecutor Ali Ghanaatkar. Tens of detainees, medical staff, visiting families — including a young child — and even a bystander were also killed.

A judiciary spokesman said on June 29 that 71 people had been confirmed dead, though the authorities have yet to release a full list of victims.

While Evin is widely known for holding political dissidents, journalists, students, and others charged under vague national security laws, it also houses inmates convicted of financial crimes and debt — people often awaiting bail or legal review, far removed from any political involvement.

The UN Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) condemned the strike as a “grave breach of international humanitarian law,” stressing that Evin Prison “was not a military objective.”

Names, not statistics

The victims of the June 23 strike are emerging not as statistics, but as lives brutally cut short.

Mehrad had accompanied his mother, Zahra Ebadi, one of seven prison social workers confirmed killed. Witnesses said Mehrad was playing in a prison playroom while his mother helped inmates draft letters.

When the first missile hit, a colleague rushed to shield him, but a concrete slab collapsed on them both. Neither survived.

Leila Jafarzadeh, a young mother of a one-year-old girl, had come to post bail for her husband, reportedly imprisoned over a financial dispute. Her body was found two days later, after her family scoured hospitals and morgues across Tehran in desperation.

Another victim, Mehrangiz Imanpour, wasn’t even inside the prison. A painter and longtime Tehran resident, she had stepped out for a walk near her home just 200 meters from the facility when the blast hit.

Her ex-husband, Reza Khandan Mahabadi, a former political prisoner, later found her body in the morgue.

“Mehrangiz was the beauty in the lives of my children,” he wrote on Instagram. “The war between two reactionary and warmongering regimes took the beauty of their lives away two days ago.”

Media reports suggest other victims included two prison doctors, a nurse, and several administrative staff and guards — many of them young conscripts, unarmed and unprepared.

Relocation of prisoners

In the aftermath of the strike, survivors described frantic and at times violent evacuations.

“We were handcuffed, chained together and violently dragged out,” said Mostafa Tajzadeh, a prominent dissident, in a phone call to his family.

Inmates were transferred to Greater Tehran Prison, Ghezel Hesar, and the notorious Qarchak Women’s Prison, where they now face severe overcrowding, unsanitary conditions, and a shortage of food and clean water.

Some injured or ill prisoners have reportedly been denied medical treatment and left without access to vital prescription medications.

Meanwhile, many families still have no information on the fate of their loved ones.

Among the missing is Motahareh Goonei, a student activist arrested early in the Israel-Iran war after posting criticism of Iran’s leadership online. She was reportedly held in Ward 209, operated by Iran’s Ministry of Intelligence. Her family has not heard from her since the attack.

Also missing are Ahmadreza Jalali, a Swedish-Iranian physician on death row, and French nationals Cécile Kohler and Jacques Paris, who are held on widely disputed espionage charges. Their families have been denied all contact and updates.