Thursday , 7 November 2024

Tortured to Death: The Story of Atefeh Na’ami

Iranwire – The November wind whispered through the streets of Azimieh in Karaj, carrying the remnants of autumn near Tehran.

Atefeh was 37 years old. According to her sister Leila and her brother Mohammad Amin, who spoke to IranWire, Atefeh was an independent, modern woman who had studied architecture

Atefeh Na’ami stood on the balcony, her shoulders weighed down by thirty-seven years of memories.

As the youngest daughter of a large Arab family from Ahvaz, she spent most of her life in Karaj, watching the city grow and change around her.

She fondly recalled her childhood in Ahvaz, filled with the warmth of family gatherings and the joys of being the youngest among many siblings.

The move to Karaj marked a new chapter in her life, yet she carried her heritage like a treasured photograph held close to her heart.

As the city prepared for another cold winter, Atefeh watched from her balcony as neighbors hurried home, their collars turned up against the chill. 

The gas heating systems in the buildings worked overtime, their hum a constant backdrop to urban life. A blanket lay folded nearby, a shield against the evening cold.

Saturday, November 26, 2022, began like any other day in Azimieh. Residents went about their morning routines, unaware that in one apartment, a young girl was being tortured to death.

When she was finally found, the blanket that should have provided warmth had become a shroud, and the very system meant to heat homes had turned into an instrument of tragedy. 

She was discovered dead, with a city gas hose in her mouth.

The security agencies never took responsibility for her death, but her family says she was an active participant in the Woman, Life, Freedom movement. In addition to joining street protests, she would shout slogans from her balcony at night.

As the second anniversary of her death approaches, Leila Na’ami, Atefeh’s older sister and maternal figure, told IranWire, “Someone who wants to commit suicide wouldn’t go to the balcony in the cold of November in just their underwear.”

There were bruises on Atefeh’s thighs, chest, and back, leading the family to believe she was tortured, sexually assaulted, and harassed while in security forces’ custody.

Leila, who lives in Austria and witnessed her sister’s last moments of chanting slogans on a WhatsApp call, says the family obtained information indicating that security agents tortured Atefeh and forcibly inserted the gas hose into her throat.

Leila says her sister was very concerned about her appearance, was brave, and participated in protests every night after the death in custody of Mahsa, walking the streets without the compulsory hijab.

Atefeh Na’ami, a Kind-Hearted Activist

Atefeh was 37 years old. According to her sister Leila and her brother Mohammad Amin, who spoke to IranWire, Atefeh was an independent, modern woman who had studied architecture. She owned an apartment in the Azimieh neighborhood of Karaj, worked, and lived with her partner.

Leila, who helped raise Atefeh and several other siblings after their mother’s death, shared memories of her sister’s childhood with IranWire: “Atefeh was my dearest. She confided in me about everything. We talked every day. She was special – she wrote poetry, loved reading, and cared deeply about her appearance.”

She continues, “Even from a young age, she had an incredible talent for makeup. I always thought she could become a makeup artist. She was very emotional, but despite being the youngest, she was incredibly mature.”

“I’m not saying this just because she was my sister – she was a role model for me. She would fill her car with meat and rice, driving to poor families’ homes to leave food for them,” Leila adds.

Leila rejects the Islamic Republic’s narrative of Atefeh’s suicide, saying her sister was always active and, after Mahsa Amini died in custody, participated in street protests every night.

“I called her last on November 17. I’ve forgotten many things about Atefeh because I’m afraid to revisit our memories. But I remember this because it’s still on my phone.”

November 17 was one of the bloodiest days of the 2022 protests in Iran, marking the third day of demonstrations held to commemorate the anniversary of the November 2019 protests.

Hamidreza Rouhi, a 20-year-old protester from the Shahr-e Ziba neighborhood of Tehran, was among those killed.

Leila recalls her last phone call with Atefeh: “I was sitting right here in the living room, and my husband was with me. I had the phone on speaker. Atefeh was on the balcony, chanting, ‘Death to the dictator.'”

“She was so brave. I could hear her neighbors chanting along with her. She said, ‘We’re all united.’ I told her, ‘Sister, I’m so worried, please be careful.’ We were still talking when she said, ‘They fired tear gas.’ Then she told me she had to turn off the lights. After she did, she said, ‘I’m lying down now. They’re targeting people, but don’t worry, I’ll be careful.'”

The next day, November 18, Leila, overwhelmed with anxiety, messaged her sister to check-in.

“We talked every day. Whenever I messaged her, she always responded quickly, saying, ‘Leila has a little kid. Don’t let her worry.’ She would tell me, ‘I’m going out [to the protests], but don’t worry. I’ll message you when I’m back.’ And when she returned, she’d message me, and only then could I sleep.”

Atefeh’s final message was a WhatsApp voice note saying, “I’m fine, don’t worry.” It was the last message Leila ever received from her sister.

For about ten days afterward, Leila kept messaging her daily. The messages were marked as seen, but there was no response. “I called her a thousand times. She didn’t answer. I kept thinking they had arrested her, laid her on her stomach, and were torturing her.”

“I wrote to her, ‘My dear Atefeh, I’m worried about you. Please take your medicine.’ I hoped that if anyone saw the message, they might show her some mercy. I saw the messages were marked as read. When my contact with Atefeh was cut off, it happened to everyone else, too. My sister was gone, but someone was still reading her messages. How else could that happen?”

Leila also recalls how Atefeh would meet other protesters at different cafes after the demonstrations. “Atefeh had beautiful long hair. She never wore a headscarf and would shout slogans from her balcony every night.”

Leila believes the authorities must have identified Atefeh because of her distinctive appearance and behavior.

Saturday, November 26, and the Decomposed Body

Leila remembers the day Atefeh’s body was found, half-naked under a blanket with a gas hose in her mouth: “It was Saturday, November 26. My brother arrived to find the area already cordoned off by the officers, who had left. They claimed they had to leave because Atefeh’s body had begun decomposing.”

She adds, “Atefeh was always very tidy and clean. When my brother arrived, he ran his finger across the kitchen counter, and there was no dust. How could the balcony door have been open for days without dust accumulating? Atefeh’s coat was left on the sofa, something she would never have done.”

Leila described finding her sister’s body half-naked under a blanket and believes that security forces had been waiting for Atefeh at her home after identifying her.

The family learned that the gas hose had been forcibly shoved down her throat. “Losing Atefeh was devastating, but the news that followed made our pain even worse. She suffered so much. It appears multiple people were involved. Neighbors reported hearing noises but were unable to intervene. They heard someone grab a girl and throw her to the ground. She fought back, cursing them, but no one stepped in to help.”

Leila adds, “The investigator from Branch 13 in Karaj, Zahir Malekzadeh, immediately said at the scene that it was a murder. Shortly after, they replaced him. How can they replace an investigator like that? The forensic report mentioned that Atefeh’s body had decomposed, making it hard to determine the exact cause of death. They claimed no toxins were found, but a gas hose connected to the city’s supply was found in her mouth, with the valve still open.”

The Burial Day: “They Said It Must Be Done Before 9 AM”

IranWire was the first outlet to report the family’s story in an interview with Atefeh’s brother, Mohammad Amin. He revealed that the family faced immense pressure to bury Atefeh’s body as quickly as possible.

Leila confirms this, adding, “When they handed over Atefeh’s body, they insisted she had to be buried before 9 AM. They transported her body from Karaj to Ahvaz. Now, she rests over our mother’s grave in Behesht Abad Cemetery. My older sister rushed to carry Atefeh’s coffin. There were only about seven or eight people under the coffin, but the entire cemetery was filled with plainclothes agents. We weren’t given any time; none of my aunts could make it.”

According to Leila, after Mohammad Amin raised awareness about Atefeh, the intelligence office in Ahvaz repeatedly summoned their brother Mehdi in Iran. He was threatened in an attempt to silence the family from publicizing Atefeh’s story.

Leila adds, “Whenever we hold a ceremony for Atefeh or when people bring flowers to her grave or when Amin gives an interview, they immediately call Mehdi and demand that he put a stop to it, saying, ‘Tell him to shut his mouth.’”

Leila also explains how Atefeh’s case in the judiciary was closed: “After a while, they told us not to follow up anymore. Since Atefeh’s death, it feels like a part of my body is no longer with me.”

“She would dance to any song, bringing so much joy. Her moves could captivate anyone. She danced Arabic, Turkish, Bandari, and Persian,” Leila recounts.

She adds, “Atefeh was so sweet. They destroyed her. They killed us all with Atefeh—all of us. This pain will stay with us forever.”

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