Iran International
Alghadir hospital was already one of the clearest windows into Iran’s January massacre. Now, after a public campaign by Iran International, families and witnesses have come forward with more names tied to the same corridors, storage rooms and rear courtyard.
Iran International has now identified 21 people whose bodies were taken to Alghadir or whose final hours passed through the hospital, including 12 cases detailed in this report.
The accounts add to the record of two nights in which the east Tehran hospital became a transfer point for the wounded and the dead.
On January 8 and 9, witnesses said the streets around Alghadir saw heavy gunfire as security forces opened fire on protesters around Haft Hoz, Tehranpars and Nezamabad.
Inside the hospital, the accounts describe a place where people came for treatment or shelter, only to face the reach of the crackdown inside the wards.
Nights when Alghadir became a crime scene
According to accounts received by Iran International, security forces not only obstructed treatment for wounded protesters brought to Alghadir, but in some cases shot injured people, blocked medical care and moved bodies to storage rooms and the hospital’s rear courtyard.
Witnesses and informed sources said doctors, nurses and other medical staff continued trying to save the wounded despite pressure and threats. They treated protesters in operating rooms, hallways, ambulances and hospital rooms.
One witness said several young protesters entered the hospital to escape security forces chasing them during the demonstrations. Security forces later entered the hospital, closed the doors and fired tear gas inside.
According to the witness, some hospital workers hid protesters in bathrooms and wards, and dressed them in medical clothing to keep security forces from identifying them.
A member of the medical staff said that when more than 70 wounded protesters were brought to the hospital, security forces shot and killed four injured people in front of nurses trying to treat them.
A body taken from home
Sources familiar with the events told Iran International that security forces seized the body of a medical student who had been transferred to Alghadir on January 8 and have never told his family where he was buried.
His family had initially taken the body home to Boumehen, east of Tehran, hoping to prevent authorities from confiscating it and to bury him secretly.
Hours later, security forces found the family’s address using the student’s national identification card, which had been left inside his bloodied jacket. Officers raided the home, used tear gas and took the body away as relatives pleaded with them to leave it behind.
Sources said the family has received no information since then about where he may have been buried.
Iran International is withholding the student’s identity for security reasons.
A courtyard of bodies
A witness who sent video and information to Iran International said Alghadir’s rear courtyard had become a holding and transfer area for the bodies of protesters killed on January 9.
The witness, who had been hit by shotgun pellets during the previous day’s protests, returned to the hospital the next morning for treatment. He said he entered the building to the sound of families crying and shouting.
He walked toward the rear courtyard and morgue area, where he saw blood on the ground and several bodies nearby. Many families were gathered around the hospital grounds, but security forces pushed them away.
After some time, he said, bodies were loaded into pickup trucks and families were told to continue searching at Behesht Zahra cemetery.
“Most of the bodies I saw in the hospital courtyard belonged to people under 30 years old, and there was even the body of a child around 12 or 13 years old among them,” the witness said.
Amirparsa Ashkbous: A student in a blue blanket
Amirparsa Ashkbous was 21 and in his final term studying microbiology. Before joining the January 8 protests, he had sent an audio message criticizing those ignoring calls to gather while people his age were preparing to risk arrest or death.
According to information received by Iran International, Amirparsa joined protests around Haft Hoz with friends and was shot in the neck by a sniper.
His body was later placed in a blue blanket in the rear area of Alghadir hospital.
A video obtained by Iran International showed his mother searching for his body at the hospital.
Friends described him as kind-hearted and deeply interested in football.
Hossein Naseri: ‘I go for the next generation’
Hossein Naseri, born in 1952, told people around him before joining the January 9 protests that he was not afraid for himself.
“I am at ease about the safety and welfare of my children, and it does not matter what happens to me,” he said, according to relatives.
“I am going to the protests for a better future for the next generation.”
When others urged him to wear a mask to protect himself from security forces, he replied: “Let me be sacrificed for you young people.”
Naseri was shot on his second night at the protests. The bullet hit a main artery in his leg. People at the scene drove him to Alghadir hospital, and sources said he was still alive when he arrived.
As the wounded were being brought in, security forces raided the hospital, forcing the person who had taken Naseri there to flee.
Four days later, Naseri’s wife found his body alone at Kahrizak morgue.
Relatives said he was buried without a normal funeral while his two children, both outside Iran, still did not know what had happened to their father.
Ali Rouzbahani: Buried in bloodied clothes
Ali Rouzbahani, 36, from Lorestan province, was killed on January 8 and his body was taken to Alghadir hospital.
Sources said that when his family came to collect him that evening, a hospital worker warned them to remove the body the same night before security forces could seize it.
The family secretly transported him to Lorestan and buried him without a public funeral. He was not placed in a shroud. He was buried in the bloodied clothes he had been wearing when he was killed.
Pouria Gholamali: Driven by economic hardship
Pouria Gholamali, 32, worked in Tehran’s computer market. Relatives said the rising dollar and the deep recession in the market had affected his life and work, and pushed him toward the protests.
He was killed near Haft Hoz on January 8 by gunfire from government forces. His body was later left in Alghadir’s rear courtyard.
People close to him said he loved nature and spent much of his free time traveling.
Mohammad Talebi Toroghi: Shot in the head
Mohammad Talebi Toroghi, 35, was shot during the January 8 protests in the Haft Hoz area.
Sources said the bullet struck him in the back of the head. His body was taken to Alghadir hospital and later handed over to his family.
Talebi Toroghi was born in Tehran and was the son of a man killed in the Iran-Iraq War.
Sources described him as a martial artist, a professional motorcyclist and someone deeply interested in riding.
Shahabeddin Sameni: Found after hours of searching
Shahabeddin Sameni, born in 1979, was shot in Nezamabad neighbourhood on January 8, according to sources familiar with the case.
Sources said a live bullet was fired at his head from above Narmak Mosque.
His family searched hospitals and other centers for hours before finding his body around 2 a.m. on January 9 in Alghadir’s rear courtyard.
Sameni had a child who was a university student. Sources said that despite his stable financial situation, he had joined protesters in the streets.
After his death, security forces put heavy pressure on his parents to accept that their son had been a Basij member.
The Foundation of Martyrs contacted the family several times, but his father refused. He was later threatened with the confiscation of property.
Peyman Chinisaz: Left in storage for days
Peyman Chinisaz, 53, was from Bandar Anzali. He was shot in the stomach on January 8 in Tehran’s Nezamabad neighborhood and taken to Alghadir hospital.
A source close to the family said his relatives did not know his fate for several days. When they first went to the hospital, they were told he was not there.
His body, the source said, had been kept for five days in one of Alghadir’s storage rooms.
The family believes Chinisaz was left without proper care after reaching the hospital and died from bleeding.
He was married and had three children, a son and two daughters.
Mohsen Shahmohammadi: Died after two weeks in coma
Mohsen Shahmohammadi, born in 1988, was shot during the January 8 protests near Tehranpars First Square.
The bullet struck his abdomen and kidneys. He was transferred to Alghadir and remained in a coma for about two weeks.
Sources said his condition was critical from the time he was wounded until his death. He died on January 23 from the severity of his injuries.
Shahmohammadi was unmarried.
Hamidreza Haghparast: Died from blood loss
Hamidreza Haghparast, from Rasht, was shot near Haft Hoz during the January 8 protests.
The bullet struck his genital and groin area, leaving him severely wounded.
Sources said Haghparast was left for a long time first on Haft Hoz street and then at Alghadir hospital. He died from severe bleeding and lack of timely care.
Haghparast’s body was not released to his family for four days. Sources said officials made the release conditional on “council approval” and a written pledge from the family.
Haghparast, born in Rasht, was his mother’s only companion and breadwinner. He was buried on January 11 at Bagh-e Rezvan cemetery in Rasht..
Abolfazl Najafi-Aroun: Family forced to pay for burial
Abolfazl Najafi-Aroun, 25, was shot with three live rounds on the evening of January 8 near Tirandaz intersection in Tehranpars.
He was taken to Alghadir and underwent surgery. Family members and people close to him said he remained conscious for several hours after the operation and even spoke with those around him. A short time later, the family was told he had died.
Relatives said authorities did not allow him to be buried in Behesht Zahra. They said the family was charged 10 billion rials, about $5,555, for a burial permit in Robat Karim, near Tehran. The amount, they said, was separate from the cost of the bullets.
People close to Najafi-Aroun described him as warm-hearted, loyal and loved by friends and relatives.
Hosseinali Sarani: Family paid to recover body
Hosseinali Sarani, 44, was from Aliabad-e Katul in Golestan province. He was transferred to Alghadir after being shot on January 8.
Relatives said the family received his body after one week.
They said they were forced to pay 5 billion rials, about $2,780, to recover it.
Hani Ganji: Family received wrong body
Hani Ganji, 49, was shot from behind at close range in Tehranpars on the evening of January 8. He was taken to Alghadir and died from severe bleeding.
After pressure from authorities and after signing a pledge, his family received a body and took it to a workshop in Pardis, Boumehen.
The next day, when no doctor agreed to issue a death certificate, the family took the body first to the Pardis police station and then, with a police letter, to Kahrizak.
When the family went to Behesht Zahra for the funeral and burial, they discovered they had been given the wrong body.
After hours of searching, they were finally able to recover Hani’s body and bury him late that day.
A growing record
The 21 people identified by Iran International are not a full list of those taken to Alghadir hospital.
They are the names recovered so far from one hospital, in one part of Tehran, after two nights of killing.
The first report showed Alghadir as a place where the massacre became visible: the overflowing morgue, bodies in storage rooms and the rear courtyard, and families searching through blankets and body covers.
The new accounts show something else as well: how that record is still growing, one witness, one family and one name at a time.
Iran’s streets and comment sections increasingly project the same official mood: unity, defiance and loyalty. Nighttime rallies supply the images – flags, portraits, organized crowds. Online, many Iran-related posts draw a parallel chorus of praise for the Islamic Republic, celebration of its military posture and attacks on critics, often alongside tributes to slain Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei and his still-unseen successor, Mojtaba Khamenei.
What the screen does not show is the pool of people removed before the argument even begins.
As Iran’s internet blackout pushes deeper into its third month, the question is no longer only what people are saying online.
It is who still has the connection, the permission, the protection or the incentive to say it.
The latest crisis did not begin with one switch. During the January uprising, internet access was cut on January 8 and remained fully restricted until January 28. After US-Israeli strikes began on February 28, authorities imposed a new shutdown that has now moved toward its third month.
A normal comment section, however flawed, allows some collision between competing voices. A blackout changes the sample.
Many ordinary users are pushed onto restricted domestic services. Others ration expensive workarounds. Some businesses cannot reach customers. Students lose access to material. Families abroad struggle to maintain daily contact. At the same time, state-aligned users, approved institutions and privileged accounts remain visible on global platforms.
The asymmetry has not been hidden. In March, Iran’s government said it was providing special internet access to select users capable of promoting its messaging online. A government spokeswoman did not use the term “white SIM cards,” but said connectivity was being offered to “those who can better deliver the message.”
That is the controlled sample: not a country speaking freely, but a narrower population still able to speak outward.
The most revealing development is not only who receives access. It is what some people are asked to do to regain it.
Some Iranians whose SIM cards or internet access had been blocked over alleged online activity against the Islamic Republic said they were told to submit handwritten pledges, provide guarantors and publish pro-government content to restore access.
The notices asked for home and work addresses, bank account information, images of bank cards and links to social media accounts. They also instructed recipients not to publish content deemed harmful to the country’s “psychological, social or political security.”
Some were told to publish at least 20 posts supporting the Islamic Republic and send screenshots as proof.
The posts were not to be uploaded all at once. They had to be spaced out so the activity would appear natural.
Others were ordered to attend nighttime government rallies, photograph themselves carrying flags or images of the Supreme Leader, and provide identification documents from guarantors who would accept responsibility for any future “criminal activity.”
The detail about timing is small, but it carries the whole design. The aim is not merely loyalty. It is loyalty made to look organic.
This is where the street and the screen meet. Organized rallies produce images of public unity. Selective internet access and coerced posting can carry the same choreography into comment sections, reply chains and social platforms.
The state does not need every supportive post to be fake. It needs a system in which supportive voices are easier to see, dissenting voices are harder to hear, and some frightened users learn that getting back online may require a public performance of loyalty.
Iran’s internet is no longer simply available or unavailable. It has been sorted.
At the top are so-called white SIM cards, widely understood as privileged lines that allow largely unrestricted access for trusted insiders and state-aligned users. Below them are paid and limited services such as “Internet Pro,” presented by officials as a business necessity but described by many Iranians as a class-based system of digital inequality.
Reporting on material circulating among users described a four-level structure: white SIM cards, paid Internet Pro, costly VPN access and, for the majority, a restricted domestic network.
The economic filter is severe. Average monthly income in Iran is at around $100 to $200, while the minimum wage is typically below $100. Even official Internet Pro packages and VPN routes can be unaffordable, and black-market access has reportedly pushed prices far higher.
Access also carries political exposure. For those who can afford a connection, the risk is not only cost but traceability. A user may be able to post, but with the knowledge that the same system can block a SIM card, summon a guarantor, demand a pledge or turn an online comment into a legal file.
Iranian state-linked online influence operations long predate the current blackout. Microsoft has reported that Iranian cyber-enabled influence activity has been a consistent feature of at least the last three US election cycles.
In January, the Foundation for Defense of Democracies identified what it described as a likely regime-linked influence operation on X during protests, using coordinated accounts to delegitimize dissent, intimidate protesters and reinforce official narratives.
The report said the network included at least 289 accounts posting identical Persian-language content, with behavior suggesting a hybrid of automation and human operation.
But the current phase adds a more intimate layer. Foreign influence operations impersonate a public from a distance. Domestic coercion can pressure the public itself.
The old shorthand of “bots” misses the range of actors now shaping the visible online picture: automated accounts, organized cyber operators, loyalists with privileged access, state-linked media networks, paid voices, and users pushed to perform approval to recover ordinary tools of daily life.
The missing side of Iran’s online debate is not abstract.
It is the online seller without customers, the student without class materials, the programmer without contracts, the family unable to make a routine call abroad, and the person with disabilities cut off from services or communities that made daily life more manageable.
Against that background, pro-government comment floods do not prove a national mood. They show that some people still have access, some have protection, some have instructions, and many others have been priced out, cut off or made cautious by fear.
There are genuine supporters of the Islamic Republic. But a system that restricts millions, grants selective access, monitors users, blocks SIM cards and tells some people to space out loyalty posts cannot produce a clean reading of public opinion.
When a government cuts off the people and leaves the microphone to loyalists, the comment section stops being a public square.
It becomes part of the stage.
The real story is not only in the roar under the post. It is in the conditions that made so many others unable to answer back – and in the citizens told that to return to the internet, they must first praise the power that cut them off.
At least 2,707 people were executed across 17 countries in 2025, the rights group said in its annual report on the global use of the death penalty, describing the figure as the highest recorded since it began tracking executions in 1981.
Iranian authorities carried out at least 2,159 executions in 2025, more than double the figure recorded the previous year and by far the largest contributor to the global rise, according to the report.
“A shameless minority are weaponizing the death penalty to instill fear, crush dissent and punish marginalized communities,” Amnesty Secretary General Agnès Callamard said.
Drug-related executions drove increase
A resurgence of punitive anti-drug policies, Amnesty said, fueled much of the increase in executions globally.
Nearly half of all known executions in 2025 – 1,257 cases – were linked to drug-related offenses, including in Iran, China, Saudi Arabia, Singapore and Kuwait.
Iran accounted for 998 of those executions, the highest number among countries identified in the report.
Saudi Arabia carried out at least 356 executions in 2025 and made extensive use of capital punishment in drug-related cases, Amnesty said.
The organization also reported increases in executions in several other countries, with Kuwait nearly tripling its total from six to 17 executions. Egypt’s number rose from 13 to 23, Singapore’s from nine to 17 and the United States from 25 to 47.
The report did not include the thousands of executions Amnesty believes continued to take place in China, which it said remained the world’s leading executioner.
Executing states remain minority
Despite the sharp rise in executions, Amnesty said countries carrying out the death penalty remained “an isolated minority.”
China, Egypt, Iran, Iraq, North Korea, Saudi Arabia, Somalia, the United States, Vietnam and Yemen have all carried out executions every year for the past five years, according to the report.
Four countries resumed executions in 2025 – Japan, South Sudan, Taiwan and the United Arab Emirates – bringing the total number of executing states to 17.
“It’s time for executing countries to step into line with the rest of the world and leave this abhorrent practice in the past,” Callamard said.
Amnesty highlights abolition efforts
The global trend toward abolishing the death penalty nevertheless continued, Amnesty said.
When the organization began campaigning against capital punishment in 1977, only 16 countries had abolished it. That number has now risen to 113, according to the report.
Vietnam abolished the death penalty for eight offenses including drug transportation, bribery and embezzlement, while Gambia removed capital punishment for murder, treason and other offenses against the state.
The organization also pointed to legislative efforts in Lebanon and Nigeria aimed at abolishing the death penalty, while Kyrgyzstan’s Constitutional Court ruled attempts to restore executions unconstitutional.
“With human rights under threat around the world, millions of people continue to fight against the death penalty each year in a powerful demonstration of our shared humanity,” Callamard said.
