The New Yorker:

After the fall of Bashar al-Assad, the country tries to discern the fate of people the regime locked away.

By Jon Lee Anderson

On Wednesday, at Sednaya, a political prison in Syria, hundreds of people prowled the grounds. It was the third day after an astonishing rebel offensive deposed Bashar al-Assad, who had ruled as a tyrant during thirteen years of vicious civil war. After the rebels swept into Damascus, the jailers had fled Sednaya, and the prisoners had been set free. The visitors on Wednesday were relatives of men who were known to have been held there but had not reappeared. On the grass outside, burned black in places by recent fires, groups of them camped out in a grim limbo.

That morning, a Turkish search-and-rescue team in blue coveralls was busy with shovels inside the darkened administration block, working at a small rectangle of dirt where a concrete slab had been torn away. Rumors persisted that there was a buried hatchway to a “red prison”—a secret underground facility where hundreds, or even thousands, of prisoners might still be alive but dying of hunger, thirst, or asphyxiation. Whether or not the rumors were true, most everyone at Sednaya seemed to believe them, and several relatives approached me to ask whether, as “a Westerner,” I could provide the technology to peer through the floors. The leader of the Turkish team told me that his group had nothing but shovels. “We are here because we want to show solidarity,” he explained, gesturing at the desperate people around him.

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