Exiled Syrian Opens up About Death-Defying Smuggling Operation That Showed Proof of Assad’s Cruelty

A Syrian man inspects cells at the prison of Sednaya, north of Damascus, Syria, Dec. 16, 2024. (AFP)
A Syrian man inspects cells at the prison of Sednaya, north of Damascus, Syria, Dec. 16, 2024. (AFP)
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Exiled Syrian Opens up About Death-Defying Smuggling Operation That Showed Proof of Assad’s Cruelty

A Syrian man inspects cells at the prison of Sednaya, north of Damascus, Syria, Dec. 16, 2024. (AFP)
A Syrian man inspects cells at the prison of Sednaya, north of Damascus, Syria, Dec. 16, 2024. (AFP)

He waited for his brother-in-law to cross the front line smuggling documents stolen from the Syrian dictatorship’s archives. Detection could mean dismemberment or death, but they were committed to exposing the industrial-scale violence used to keep President Bashar al-Assad in power.

Ussama Uthman, now 59, was building a vast record of the brutality — photographs that showed Assad’s government was engaging in systematic torture and extrajudicial killings.

Now, safely in exile in France and with Assad having fallen in a surprise opposition offensive last year, Uthman is sharing how he, his wife and her brother teamed up to smuggle evidence of the horrific crimes out from under Syria’s infamous surveillance apparatus as war tore the country apart.

The photos of broken bodies and torture sites — records were apparently kept to show orders were being followed — began appearing online in 2014. They spurred US sanctions, and are being used to prosecute suspected war crimes and help Syrians find out what happened to family members who disappeared.

“We have hundreds of thousands of mothers waiting for news of their loved ones,” said Uthman.

During a recent interview in northern France — The Associated Press agreed to withhold the exact location for security reasons — the only time Uthman's voice broke was when he recounted sending a woman photos of a brutalized body and asking if she recognized her son.

“I send her five snapshots of her son’s body, torn under Bashar al-Assad’s whips, and she rejoices. She says, ‘Thank God, I have confirmed that he is dead,’” he recalled. “This sadness should have kept our flags at half-staff in Syria for years.”

Family secrets, risks and duty

With the so-called “Arab Spring” uprisings in the Middle East in 2011, protests in the southern city of Daraa inspired demonstrations throughout Syria. The government responded with force, but rather than crushing the demonstrations, the brutality sparked a civil war that spurred foreign intervention and pitted a patchwork of opposition groups against the armor and air power of the military and Assad’s allies.

When news broke that first year of a massacre in Hama, Uthman, a construction engineer from the Damascus suburb of al-Tall, swore he'd help topple Assad. He didn’t know how until he got a call from his wife’s brother Farid al-Mazhan, a military police officer who asked him to meet in person — electronic communications were too risky.

Al-Mazhan showed Uthman gory images taken by photographers in the military forensic pathology department that he helped run. He said he could access more.

The two launched a secret operation that would eventually smuggle more than 53,000 photographs out of Syria showing evidence of torture, disease and starvation in the country's lockups.

The operation was incredibly dangerous but straightforward.

As an officer, Al-Mazhan could pass government-run checkpoints; his connections in the opposition-held town where he lived and eventually Uthman’s secret coordination with the opposition enabled him to cross checkpoints staffed by their fighters.

He would then secretly pass CDs, hard drives and USB sticks containing photos and other documents to Uthman. He also slipped them to his sister, Khawla al-Mazhan, who is married to Uthman. She was the first to suggest using the photos to try to topple Assad.

“Why don’t we use these images to bring down the regime?” Uthman recalled her saying.

Uthman adopted the nom de guerre Sami. Farid al-Mazhan took Caesar. Their operation would become known as the Caesar Files.

Justice for Syria, from exile

Deciding to escape Syria — an estimated 6 million people fled during the war — the team uploaded 55 gigabytes of photos and documents dating from May 2011 to August 2014 to a foreign server. They then began furtively moving their extended families to neighboring countries. Diplomats eventually helped Uthman’s family settle in France in 2014.

Once safely out of Syria, they began publishing the material, sparking immediate and widespread condemnation of Assad.

As families scoured the ghastly archive for signs of what happened to their loved ones, the team gave copies to European prosecutors. Authorities in France, Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands and Switzerland have arrested or initiated legal proceedings against former Syrian officials accused of torture and killings.

The release of the files marked “a key point in Syria’s history,” said Kholoud Helmi, co-founder of the independent Syrian news site Enab Baladi. Both the international community and Syrians were faced with “striking proof” of the Assad government’s crimes.

“Almost nobody believed us or thought we were exaggerating,” said Helmi, who fled during the war.

The Caesar Files team are heroes, said Lina Chawaf, editor-in-chief of Radio Rozana, an independent Syrian media outlet.

“You know the price that you will pay, but it will cost all of your family,” said Chawaf, who also fled Syria.

Hoping to plug the leak, Syrian authorities tightened their grip on their archive. Gradually, the team reorganized and grew to roughly 60 members both inside and outside of Syria. They built a second tranche of evidence, the Atlas Files, from 2014 until 2024.

Late last year, as they were starting to organize this new catalog — it's nearly three times the size of the first — startling news broke: The opposition had seized Syria’s second-biggest city, Aleppo.

Accountability under a new regime

Within 10 days, opposition forces sprinted across government-held territory to take Damascus, forcing Assad to flee to Russia and ending his family's nearly 54-year rule.

The sudden power vacuum bred chaos, with opposition forces flinging open the doors of the country's most feared prisons.

Team members still in Syria and families of the missing rushed to the sites in search of information — more than 130,000 Syrians disappeared during the war, according to international bodies.

Helmi, of the Enab Baladi news site, considers her family lucky to have found proof of her brother Ahmad's execution.

“They killed him 27 days after he was detained, and we’ve been waiting for him for 13 years,” said Helmi, who thinks the new government of President Ahmed al-Sharaa, a former opposition leader, hasn't done enough to help families.

Uthman went further, saying so much evidence was lost in the immediate aftermath of Assad's ouster that it was akin to the new authorities “destroying evidence, tampering with the crime scene.”

Documents lay scattered on rainy streets, psychologically shattered prisoners wandered out of broken jails, and wild dogs chewed on bones in mass graves, he said.

The government — which hopes the US will permanently lift the sanctions imposed for the abuses exposed by the Caesar Files — says it is doing all it can to reckon with Assad’s bloody legacy. During Sharaa’s visit to Washington on Monday, the Treasury announced a waiver of the sanctions had been renewed for another six months.

In a news conference last week in Damascus, Reda al-Jalakhi, who heads the government's National Commission for the Missing, acknowledged that “in the first two days of the liberation, there was some chaos and a lot of documents were lost.”

But he said the authorities quickly took control of Assad's old lockups and is preserving the remaining evidence. He thanked the Caesar Files team for providing some documentation to the commission, but he didn't signal any plans for ongoing cooperation, saying the government would build a centralized database to find the missing.

With a defiant twinkle in his eyes, Uthman said his team's work will continue to fight any impunity in Syria as fresh sectarian violence bloodies the country. The team dreams that one day Assad might face their evidence at trial.



Mass Wedding in Gaza Celebrates New Life After Years of War and Tragedy 

Palestinian couples participate in a mass wedding ceremony in Hamad City in Khan Younis, Gaza Strip, Tuesday, Dec. 2, 2025. (AP)
Palestinian couples participate in a mass wedding ceremony in Hamad City in Khan Younis, Gaza Strip, Tuesday, Dec. 2, 2025. (AP)
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Mass Wedding in Gaza Celebrates New Life After Years of War and Tragedy 

Palestinian couples participate in a mass wedding ceremony in Hamad City in Khan Younis, Gaza Strip, Tuesday, Dec. 2, 2025. (AP)
Palestinian couples participate in a mass wedding ceremony in Hamad City in Khan Younis, Gaza Strip, Tuesday, Dec. 2, 2025. (AP)

Eman Hassan Lawwa was dressed in traditional Palestinian prints and Hikmat Lawwa wore a suit as they walked hand-in-hand past the crumbled buildings of southern Gaza in a line of other couples dressed in exactly the same way.

The 27-year-old Palestinians were among 54 couples to get married Tuesday in a mass wedding in war-ravaged Gaza that represented a rare moment of hope after two years of devastation, death and conflict.

"Despite everything that has happened, we will begin a new life," Hikmat Lawwa said. "God willing, this will be the end of the war," he said.

Weddings are a key part of Palestinian culture that have become rare in Gaza during the war. The tradition has begun to resume in the wake of a fragile ceasefire, even if the weddings are different from the elaborate ceremonies once held in the territory.

As roaring crowds waved Palestinian flags in the southern city of Khan Younis, the celebrations were dampened by the ongoing crisis across Gaza.

Most of Gaza's 2 million residents, including Eman and Hikmat Lawwa, have been displaced by the war, entire areas of cities have been flattened and aid shortages and outbursts in conflict continue to plague the daily lives of people.

The young couple, who are distant relatives, fled to the nearby town of Deir al-Balah during the war and have struggled to find basics like food and shelter. They said they don’t know how they’re going to build their lives together given the situation around them.

"We want to be happy like the rest of the world. I used to dream of having a home, a job, and being like everyone else," Hikmat said. "Today, my dream is to find a tent to live in."

"Life has started to return, but it's not like we hoped it would," he added.

Palestinians watch and celebrate a mass wedding ceremony in Hamad City in Khan Younis Tuesday, Dec. 2, 2025. (AP)

The celebration was funded by Al Fares Al Shahim, a humanitarian aid operation backed by the United Arab Emirates. In addition to holding the event, the organization offered couples a small sum of money and other supplies to start their lives together.

For Palestinians, weddings are often elaborate dayslong celebrations, seen as both an important social and economic choice that spells out the future for many families. They include joyful dances and processions through the streets by massive families in fabric patterns donned by the couple and their loved ones and heaping plates of food.

Weddings can also be a symbol of resilience and a celebration of new generations of families carrying on Palestinian traditions, said Randa Serhan, a professor of sociology at Barnard College who has studied Palestinian weddings.

"With every new wedding is going to come children and it means that the memories and the lineages are not going to die," Serhan said. "The couples are going to continue life in an impossible situation."

On Tuesday, a procession of cars carrying the couples drove through stretches of collapsed buildings. Hikmat and Eman Lawwa waved Palestinian flags with other couples as families surrounding them danced to music blaring over crowds.

Eman, who was cloaked in a white, red and green traditional dress, said the wedding offered a small moment of relief after years of suffering. But she said it was also marked by the loss of her father, mother, and other family members who were killed during the war.

"It’s hard to experience joy after such sorrow," she said, tears streaming down her face. "God willing, we will rebuild brick-by-brick."


‘Some Took Part in Israeli Captive Handover’…How Hamas Fighters Hid in Rafah Tunnels ?

Israeli captive Avera Mengistu stands on the handover platform as part of a prisoner exchange agreement between Hamas and Israel in Rafah in February (Reuters)
Israeli captive Avera Mengistu stands on the handover platform as part of a prisoner exchange agreement between Hamas and Israel in Rafah in February (Reuters)
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‘Some Took Part in Israeli Captive Handover’…How Hamas Fighters Hid in Rafah Tunnels ?

Israeli captive Avera Mengistu stands on the handover platform as part of a prisoner exchange agreement between Hamas and Israel in Rafah in February (Reuters)
Israeli captive Avera Mengistu stands on the handover platform as part of a prisoner exchange agreement between Hamas and Israel in Rafah in February (Reuters)

A series of Israeli military statements reporting the killing or capture of members of Hamas’s Izz al Din al Qassam Brigades inside Rafah’s tunnel network has sharpened scrutiny of who these fighters were and how long they had remained hidden underground.

The operations targeted men who had spent months beneath a city Israel moved to occupy in May 2024 and later brought under full control.

For more than a month, indirect contacts had sought to arrange the fighters’ safe withdrawal from the tunnels unarmed, an effort that helped expedite the handover of the body of Israeli officer Hadar Goldin on November 9.

But Israel later backed away from informal understandings with the United States, which had been engaging on the issue with Türkiye, over allowing the fighters to exit safely.

As weeks passed, Israel began hunting them down, killing and capturing them in groups through airstrikes or direct pursuit once they emerged from tunnels or ambush positions.

The pressure mounted as the fighters became confined to the last pockets of tunnels in Rafah’s eastern al-Jneina neighborhood.

Eight months in tunnels and ambush positions

Field sources from Hamas told Asharq Al-Awsat that the fighters had spent most of the two year war inside the city’s tunnels despite the presence of Israeli forces above ground and despite Israel’s entry into many of the passageways.

The sources said the tunnels had been built in ways that made them difficult for Israel to uncover fully even now.

They said that during the first truce which lasted seven days in November 2023, the fighters surfaced, then returned underground when the fighting resumed.

They alternated between staying in the tunnels and emerging into ambush positions above ground. Communication with their commanders continued until a second truce was reached in January of this year which lasted until March 18.

One source said that before the fighting resumed, and despite Israel’s deployment in Rafah, the fighters managed to emerge above ground, reach Khan Yunis, meet their commanders and take part in the handover of Israeli captives.

Some participated in the February release of Avera Mengistu, who had been held in Gaza since the 2014 war.

After the war resumed and diplomatic efforts to halt it failed, Qassam fighters returned to Rafah through the tunnels and resumed their ambush positions above ground.

From late March until August, the fighters remained in touch with their command and carried out a string of attacks that inflicted casualties on Israeli forces even after Israel declared it had brought Rafah under full control.

The Qassam Brigades at the time launched a series of attacks named Gates of Hell that killed about six Israeli soldiers.

The attacks involved detonating military vehicles, booby trapped houses and tunnel openings. In one incident in May, Qassam fighters attempted to seize an Israeli soldier.

Hamas, which was then engaged in negotiations to halt the war, sought through these operations to show that the Rafah Brigade remained active at a time when Israeli military sources were claiming the brigade had been dismantled after its battalions were destroyed.

According to information obtained by Asharq Al-Awsat, Rafah fighters and their immediate commanders spent more than eight months inside tunnels and in above ground ambush positions.

How did they obtain food and water

Field sources in the factions told Asharq Al-Awsat that the tunnels had been stocked with limited supplies of food and water.

One source who had experienced a similar shortage in a previous Gaza war said the fighters had likely relied on whatever food they could find.

This included leftover supplies from Israeli soldiers in some of the houses they had occupied or food in homes of residents that had not been destroyed.

The source cited social media posts from months earlier showing handwritten notes left by Hamas and Islamic Jihad fighters apologizing to homeowners for taking food.

The sources said duties differed inside the Qassam Brigades. Some fighters handled logistics, others manned ambush positions and others moved between units while maintaining direct coordination with field commanders.

Senior commanders

Among those whose photos Israeli media circulated after they were killed were the commander of Rafah’s eastern battalion, Mohammad al-Bawab, and his deputy, Ismail Abu Labda. Al-Bawab was married to Abu Labda’s sister.

Another senior figure killed was Tawfiq Salem, commander of the battalion’s elite company, according to the sources.

Abu Labda appeared in the February handover of Mengistu and was in direct contact with the International Committee of the Red Cross during the transfer. The sources said al-Bawab monitored the process from a distance but did not take part directly.

The sources added that al-Bawab and Abu Labda were among those who oversaw the capture of Israeli officer Hadar Goldin during the 2014 war.

Israel also killed Abdullah Hamad, the son of senior Hamas political bureau member Ghazi Hamad and a member of the movement’s negotiating delegation.

Field sources said the younger Hamad had been active in the Qassam Brigades and had graduated from the Rabat Military College run by the Hamas government before the war, later becoming an instructor.

He was killed alongside his cousin Ahmed Saeed Hamad, the son of Ghazi Hamad’s brother, while they were in a tunnel with Qassam commanders and other fighters.

The sources said Saeed Hamad had lost three daughters in Israeli strikes on their homes. The daughters were killed after their husbands took part in the October 7, 2023 attack and in other operations during the war.


Israeli Settler Outposts Spread Among West Bank Villages and Fuel Fear of More Attacks

An Israeli settler outpost stands in the middle of a valley next to olive trees in the West Bank town of Turmus Ayya, Wednesday, Nov. 12, 2025. (AP)
An Israeli settler outpost stands in the middle of a valley next to olive trees in the West Bank town of Turmus Ayya, Wednesday, Nov. 12, 2025. (AP)
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Israeli Settler Outposts Spread Among West Bank Villages and Fuel Fear of More Attacks

An Israeli settler outpost stands in the middle of a valley next to olive trees in the West Bank town of Turmus Ayya, Wednesday, Nov. 12, 2025. (AP)
An Israeli settler outpost stands in the middle of a valley next to olive trees in the West Bank town of Turmus Ayya, Wednesday, Nov. 12, 2025. (AP)

The fear is palpable in this Palestinian village. It’s clear in how farmers gather their harvests quickly, how they scan the valley for movement, how they dare not stray past certain roads. At any time, they say, armed Israeli settlers could descend.

“In a matter of minutes, they get on their phones. They gather themselves, and they surprise you,” said Yasser Alkam, a Palestinian-American lawyer and farmer from the village of Turmus Ayya. “They hide between the trees. They ambush people and beat them up severely.”

In recent months, Alkam says Turmus Ayya has weathered near-daily attacks by settlers, especially after they set up an outpost that the anti-settlement watchdog group Peace Now says is on his village’s land.

Alkam says he can’t reach his own fields for fear of being assaulted. In a particularly gruesome attack, he watched a settler beat a Palestinian woman unconscious with a spiky club.

The fear is shared throughout the West Bank. During October's olive harvest, settlers across the territory launched an average of eight attacks daily, according to the United Nations humanitarian office, the most since it began collecting data in 2006. The attacks continued in November, with the UN recording at least 136 more by Nov. 24.

Settlers burned cars, desecrated mosques, ransacked industrial plants and destroyed cropland. Israeli authorities have done little beyond issuing occasional condemnations of the violence.

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu described the attackers as a minority that did not represent most settlers in the West Bank, where settlements are considered illegal by most of the international community. But their continued expansion of outposts — conducted in public with seemingly few legal repercussions — and the violence have cemented a fearful status quo for their Palestinian neighbors.

A brutal assault on a grandmother

While driving in fields east of Turmus Ayya on Oct. 19, Alkam saw Afaf Abu Alia, a grandmother from a nearby village, harvesting a grove of olive trees. They were loaned to her after the Israeli military bulldozed her own 500 trees this year, she said.

She worked until she heard yelling in Hebrew. Settlers descended on the road nearby. Suddenly, one ran toward her with a club.

“The monsters started beating me,” she told The Associated Press three weeks after the attack. “After that, my memories get all blurry.”

Video of the attack obtained by the AP shows a settler beating Alia with the jagged club, even after she was motionless. She was hospitalized for four days, requiring 20 stitches on her head, she said.

Asked for comment on the attack, the military said its troops and police had “defused” a confrontation in which Israeli civilians were torching vehicles and using violence.

In rare move, Israel charges settler responsible Police arrested a man named Ariel Dahari for beating Abu Alia. An Israeli court charged him later with terrorism.

Dahari is being represented by Honenu, an organization that provides legal aid to settlers, who say the West Bank is part of the biblical Jewish homeland and often cast attacks as self-defense. According to an article about Dahari on the group's website, he has received at least 18 administrative orders since 2016 that included house arrest and confinement to his town in Israel.

He told the Israeli news site Arutz Sheva in 2023 that he had been kicked out of the territory twice. It is not clear how he was able to return.

Palestinians and human rights workers say Israeli soldiers and police routinely fail to prosecute attacks by violent settlers. Their sense of impunity has deepened under Israel's far-right National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, a settler, and Defense Minister Israel Katz, who in January released settlers from administrative detention, Israel’s practice of detaining individuals without charge or trial.

The number of investigations opened into settler violence since 2023, Ben-Gvir's first year in office, has plummeted, according to a report by Israel's Channel 12 TV that cited official police data. Police opened only 60 investigations into settler violence in 2024, compared with 150 cases in 2023 and 235 cases in 2022, the report said.

About 94% of all investigation files opened by Israeli police into settler violence from 2005 to 2024 ended without an indictment, according to Israeli rights group Yesh Din. Since 2005, just 3% of those investigations led to convictions.

Dahari told Arutz Sheva that he was determined to stay in the West Bank.

“We will not give up our grip on our land because of one order or another. We will continue to build it and make it flourish everywhere,” he said, adding that he hoped “the security establishment” would “invest all its resources in the war against the Arab enemy, who is the real enemy of us all.”

When reached by the AP, Dahari’s lawyer, Daniel Shimshilashvili, sent a statement from Honenu, saying there was “slim evidence” against Dahari.

Threats are reinforced by settler outposts

The villagers from Turmus Ayya say it's not enough to arrest one settler — the threat of violence is reinforced by the outpost in the nearby valley called Emek Shilo.

Emek Shilo was founded this year on private Palestinian land, according to Peace Now. It was started by a well-known settler named Amishav Melet, said three Palestinians living in Turmus Ayya and Yair Dvir, the spokesperson for Israeli rights group B'tselem. On his personal X account, Melet posted videos of the outpost’s construction.

Villagers alleged that Melet travels the valley in an all-terrain vehicle, surveilling their activities. He’s frequently armed, they said.

Usually little more than a few sheds and a pen for livestock, such outposts can impose control on nearby land and water sources. They often turn into authorized settlements, spelling the end of Palestinian communities.

Israeli police did not comment when asked about Melet.

Abdel Nasser Awwad had to halt construction of a new family home when the outpost was established. In security camera footage he shared with AP, masked figures showed up at the construction site, smashing his truck with a club and appearing to cut piping. He said they have stoned three of his workers.

When AP visited the village, groups of settlers were visible around the outpost and a settler tractor patrolled the area. Drones hummed in the air.

Melet was convicted of assaulting police in 2014, according to court records. In an interview with Israel's Ynet news in 2015, Melet said he had received administrative orders barring him from the West Bank.

In response to questions from the AP, Melet said he was a “peace activist.”

“Any claim against me that I am active or connected to violence or terrorism or any illegal action is a lie and a falsehood!” he wrote.

He called the AP’s questions “part of a cruel and false campaign” against Zionism that “reeks” of antisemitism.

In video from Oct. 20 shared with the AP by Alkam, a man who Alkam said was Melet was recorded telling a farmer picking olives to leave. The farmer responded, “The army allowed us to be here today.”

“Where is the army?” the man identified as Melet said. “I am the army.”

When settlers descend on Turmus Ayya, the mosque emits a loud siren. Young men dash quickly to the village entrance, forming a barrier between their families and the settlers.

During the harvest, many villagers brought cameras into the fields, hoping footage showing assaults would help hold settlers accountable.

It’s a far cry from past olive harvests, when families spent all day in the groves, picnicking beneath the trees.

Abu Alia, the grandmother, said nothing will prevent her from returning.

“I’ll be back next year.”