Iranian security forces used mosques across Tehran to deploy personnel, monitor protesters and support operations during the January crackdown, evidence obtained by Iran International shows.
Intercepted radio communications, video footage and eyewitness accounts point to security forces operating from several mosques in and around the capital on January 8 and 9, when protests drew large crowds and authorities launched a deadly crackdown.
In one intercepted exchange, security personnel discussed deploying forces and equipment inside Imam Hossein Mosque, which Iran International geolocated to the intersection of Sattari and Mokhbari in western Tehran.
Witnesses described security operations around the mosque as electricity was cut in the area and surveillance drones flew overhead.
Other locations identified through footage and witness accounts included mosques along Andarzgoo Boulevard and Qolhak Grand Mosque.
Satellite image showing Imam Hossein Mosque at the intersection of Sattari Highway and Mokhbari Street in western Tehran, Iran.
Witnesses also described security personnel positioned outside some mosques engaging protesters before forces inside emerged to beat and arrest them.
Taken together, the evidence suggests some mosques served not simply as gathering points but as bases from which security forces monitored and confronted protesters.
Shooting from rooftops
Several eyewitnesses described mosque rooftops being used as observation or firing positions.
One witness described several people positioned on the roof of a mosque near Kashani Boulevard in western Tehran on January 8.
“The sound of a stun grenade could be heard,” the witness said. “Once the crowd scattered a little, they started shooting from above.”
In Naziabad in southern Tehran, another witness described protesters coming under fire from elevated positions.
“They were being shot at from the rooftops of mosques and Basij bases,” the witness said.
Witnesses in the area described security forces firing directly at crowds and from elevated positions, with a number of protesters wounded or killed.
Video footage obtained by Iran International also showed surveillance drones flying above crowds during the protests.
Other witnesses described security personnel monitoring protesters with cameras from inside mosques. Some said windows at mosque buildings had been broken to create positions from which weapons could be fired and described seeing weapons fitted with laser sights.
In several areas, witnesses also said security forces pursued protesters who sought refuge in residential buildings or private parking garages, beating some of those sheltering inside and preventing injured protesters from leaving to seek medical treatment.
Iran International was not able to independently verify each of those accounts or determine who was responsible for individual shots seen or heard in footage.
Allegations of fires
Some witnesses alleged that security personnel themselves damaged or set fire to mosques that authorities could subsequently portray as having been attacked by protesters.
One witness also said security forces left gas valves open at a mosque before departing, creating the risk of a fire or explosion.
Iran International could not independently verify those accounts or establish whether any fires at the sites were deliberately started by security forces.
The allegations are significant because Iranian authorities repeatedly portrayed damage to mosques and other religious sites during the January unrest as evidence of violence by protesters.
Civilian sites used in crackdowns
The apparent use of mosques as operational sites in Tehran follows evidence that security forces used other civilian buildings during the January crackdown.
A separate Iran International investigation in neighboring Alborz province found security forces using a public library as an ammunition store and staging point, schools and mosques as gathering places for armed personnel, and the roof of a cinema as a firing position.
There is also precedent for security forces operating from or around religious sites during earlier protests. Human Rights Watch documented security forces firing on protesters and bystanders from rooftops around Zahedan’s Grand Mosalla prayer hall and Makki Mosque during the September 2022 crackdown known as Bloody Friday.
The United Nations separately documented the use of live ammunition, tear gas and metal pellets against protesters following Friday prayers in Zahedan, with footage analyzed by the UN appearing to show security forces firing from rooftops.
The evidence gathered in Tehran suggests some mosques became part of the security apparatus during the January crackdown: used to assemble personnel and equipment, monitor crowds and, according to multiple eyewitnesses, confront protesters.
A 46-year-old Baha’í who devoted more than a decade to helping some of Iran’s most vulnerable children has been handed prison sentences totaling 31 years after a trial in which his family says he was denied a lawyer.
Afshin Heyratian’s days often began at 6 a.m. He would leave his home in Tehran and spend the day volunteering with an organization helping working children, Afghan children without birth certificates and others whose legal status could prevent them from accessing education.
Sometimes his work meant teaching. Sometimes it meant painting rooms or repairing tables and chairs. Often, it was simply spending time with the children and trying to make them happy.
“That was his passion,” his older brother, Ramin Heyratian, told Iran International’s Eye for Iran. “If one virtue was supposed to define a person, it is his kindness.”
A playwright and screenwriter, Afshin also helped friends write productions without receiving credit because of restrictions imposed on him, according to Ramin, who said this was his brother’s third imprisonment
A life interrupted
His latest ordeal began after he was questioned at the school where he volunteered. Security forces came to the family home on November 11, 2025, and arrested him.
Agents confiscated phones, tablets, computers, Baha’í books and even Baha’í pictures hanging on the walls, according to his brother.
Afshin then spent 34 days in solitary confinement. For the first days after his arrest, his family did not even know where he was.
Eventually, he was permitted to call his mother and tell her to prepare the deed to the family home, raising hopes that it could be used as collateral for his release.
The release never came.
Ramin said Afshin remained imprisoned for more than 260 days before being charged, while his mother was repeatedly sent between courts trying to find out what was happening.
“They were sending her back and forth almost every day,” he said.
Afshin had an opportunity to build a life outside Iran in the early 2000s and spent time in the United States, but ultimately chose to return.
“He truly loves Iran and Iranians,” Ramin said.
The case has drawn international condemnation. Nobel Peace Prize laureate Shirin Ebadi has called for his release, while the Canadian government described his treatment as an example of Iran’s “continued disregard for human rights.”.
‘No lawyer, no warning’
The ordeal has been particularly devastating for Afshin’s mother, an 80-year-old cancer survivor.
She can now visit her youngest son approximately once every two or three weeks, Ramin said. Afshin is also allowed to telephone her each day.
Ramin said the family had been told Afshin would receive legal representation and that they would be notified before his court date.
Neither happened.
Instead, one of Afshin’s fellow prisoners alerted his own family that Afshin had been taken to court. Afshin’s mother learned what was happening while she was on her way to an oncology appointment.
She rushed to the courthouse.
Ramin said she waited in the hallways, trying to determine where her son was, until she suddenly heard Afshin behind her as he emerged from court.
By then, the hearing was over.
Afshin pleaded not guilty but had no lawyer representing him, Ramin said.
“He was basically his own lawyer,” he said.
When his mother asked how he was doing, Afshin reassured her.
“I’m okay. Don’t worry about it. We’ll be fine,” Ramin recalled him saying.
‘Life sentence’
Branch 26 of the Tehran Revolutionary Court sentenced Heyratian to prison terms totaling 31 years, according to the Hengaw Organization for Human Rights.
The sentences included 12 years for “forming an illegal group,” 11 years for “propaganda activities contrary to the sacred law of Islam,” six years for “assembly and collusion,” and two years over allegations of “obtaining illegitimate property.” Financial penalties were also imposed.
Under Article 134 of Iran’s Islamic Penal Code, only the most severe sentence, 12 years, is expected to be enforceable.
Ramin rejects the allegations against his brother.
“The things that they have attached to those charges … are, first of all, completely untrue,” he said, adding that the organization where Afshin volunteered had been permitted to operate in Iran.
Iran’s Baha’í community has faced decades of state persecution and restrictions on education, employment and other aspects of public life. The Islamic Republic does not recognize the Baha’í faith as one of the country’s protected religious minorities.
Ramin said the length of his brother’s punishment was extraordinary even by the standards of that persecution.
“At Afshin’s age, this can be a life sentence,” he said, adding that the family had not abandoned hope.
“We believe that the future of Iran is absolutely brilliant,” Ramin said. “We are hoping for that to happen soon.”
Iran executed another detainee from the January protests after the Supreme Court upheld his death sentence, the judiciary announced on Sunday.
The judiciary accused Majid Adineh of taking “operational action” for Israel, the United States and hostile groups and cooperating with them against Iran’s security and national interests.
Adineh was put to death at dawn. A Revolutionary Court in Karaj had also ordered the confiscation of all his property.
He was arrested with another person on January 9 near Karaj by intelligence forces of the Revolutionary Guards' Alborz provincial branch.
Adineh’s case included charges of “enmity against God through deliberate arson, collusion against internal security, propaganda against the Islamic Republic and unauthorized possession of weapons.”
Iranian authorities have long used broadly worded charges such as espionage, acting against national security, armed rebellion, enmity against God and corruption on earth to crush dissent and remove political opponents. Human rights organizations say these labels are routinely applied to protesters, dissidents and political prisoners to portray them as security threats and provide a legal pretext for execution.
Executions accelerate
Adineh's execution came one week after Shahram Sadeghi, another January protest detainee.
An Iran International review shows about 60 political prisoners have been executed since the beginning of the Iranian calendar year in March, while dozens more have received death sentences on political charges.
UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Volker Türk said on August 5 that at least 56 political prisoners were executed since March 19, including 27 whose cases were connected to the January protests. More than 100 others faced execution, Türk added.
Türk called the lack of fair-trial guarantees "deeply troubling," citing reports of confessions obtained under torture and cases in which only weeks separated arrest from execution.
Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch and UN experts have documented repeated cases in which such convictions were issued by revolutionary courts after grossly unfair or highly expedited proceedings, with defendants denied meaningful access to lawyers and verdicts based on torture-tainted forced confessions. Rights groups therefore describe many executions carried out under these charges as arbitrary and politically motivated, warning that the authorities’ allegations should not be treated as independently established facts.
Three young women hold up red-painted artwork representing the blood of innocent protestors, including handprints and Persian script, while one raises a victory sign.
The Islamic Republic may want the world to forget what happened in January, but the bodies of those who survived make that difficult.
Much of the attention since Iran’s bloody crackdown has rightly focused on those who were killed. Far less has been paid to those who lived.
They went into the streets hoping this time would be different. For many, it was, but not in the way they had hoped.
They survived being shot with metal pellets, beaten and, in some cases, slashed with machete-like weapons. Now doctors warn that some could spend the rest of their lives with permanent disabilities, chronic pain and dependent on opioids simply to manage it.
Raza is accustomed to catastrophic injuries. She works across multiple Level I trauma centers, treating adults and children with gunshot wounds, severe bleeding and injuries from vehicle crashes. But she says nothing in her medical career prepared her for the scale of what she has seen among those wounded in Iran.
“I have never seen this scale,” she said.
Working with Physicians for Human Rights, Raza has remotely assessed hundreds of injured Iranians, often through secure communications because patients fear seeking treatment inside the country. She says every patient she assessed spoke to medical teams from a home, a neighbor’s home or a relative’s home rather than a medical facility.
What she found was a pattern of injuries that could follow survivors for decades.
Hundreds of tiny metal pellets can remain embedded in a single person, lodged in skin, tendons and joints and near major nerves and blood vessels. Raza says more than 95 percent cannot safely be removed because surgery itself could damage arteries, nerves and other surrounding structures.
For some survivors, even ordinary movement may become a source of pain.
“Every time you bend your finger, you’re going to feel that pellet and it’s going to cause pain,” Raza said. “You’re going to have chronic inflammation. You’re going to need to be on steroids to manage the chronic inflammation. You’re going to need to be on opioids.”
The consequences, she warns, can include blindness, nerve damage, chronic inflammation, disfigurement and permanent disability, with some survivors unable to work or even walk.
“These will cause chronic disability, chronic nerve issues, chronic pain to the point of disfigurement, to the point of people being unable to work, walk,” Raza said.
Among the patients she described was a six-year-old boy.
Metal pellets struck his face during the protests and remain embedded in his skull, face and near his eye socket. Because of the concentration of nerves and blood vessels in the area, Raza says they cannot safely be removed.
“He’s going to live his whole life with pellets embedded in his skull, in his face, near his orbit,” she said.
He was six years old when he was wounded. The crackdown could remain physically inside his body for the rest of his life.
For Raza, his injuries represented something even more disturbing.
“This is their way of inflicting lifelong torture,” she said. “This is making someone’s body a prison.”
She described another patient, a 16-year-old construction worker whose mother had died and whose father, in his 70s, has cancer. The teenager was the family’s sole breadwinner.
In addition to pellet wounds, Raza said he suffered a deep laceration across his hand after people entered the crowds striking protesters with what she described as “machete-like objects.” The wound cut down to his tendons.
But his greatest concern was not his own pain.
“How am I going to feed my family?” Raza recalled him asking.
He wanted to know whether he could return to work so he could continue supporting his father and buying his chemotherapy medication.
“What can I do so I can go back to work? I need to feed my father. I need to buy him medicine, chemotherapy medicine,” Raza recalled him saying.
For Raza, his case shows how permanent injury to one protester can ripple through an entire family.
“This is the multi-generational physical, psychological trauma that they have inflicted,” she said.
Raza also believes the location and pattern of the pellet injuries are significant. She says she repeatedly saw pellets concentrated around areas rich in nerves and blood vessels, including the eyes, neck, torso and genitalia.
“This is not crowd control,” she said. “This is an intentional use of this weapon to inflict maximum pain, not only in the moment, but for years on.”
She makes an even more explicit assessment of the injuries she documented.
“This pattern is not coincidental,” Raza said. “It is intentionally inflicted to cause maximum amount of pain, injury throughout your life.”
There is another consequence.
The pellets that injure protesters may also identify them.
Because the fragments are metal and often cannot be removed, Raza says they can remain visible on X-rays and potentially detectable years later. Patients told her they feared their injuries could effectively mark them as people who had participated in the protests.
“Their wounds, their injuries have now become identifying markers for attack and targeted persecution later,” she said.
For survivors, then, the injury can become both punishment and evidence: a source of chronic pain that may never leave their bodies, and a physical record of what happened to them.
The dead can be counted.
The lifetime carried by those who survived is much harder to measure.
Ghazal Marzban, a transgender woman held in Tehran’s Evin prison, says she was raped after being detained by Iran’s Intelligence Ministry in 2023 and later threatened into silence, according to a letter published by the HRANA human rights news agency.
Marzban said she was arrested on May 17, 2023, while walking in a park, when two men and a woman approached her and told her she was being detained. After she resisted, two more men arrived and forced her into a vehicle, she wrote.
She said she was blindfolded and driven for about an hour to a location she later learned was an Intelligence Ministry detention facility.
According to her account, a female officer took her to a room for a search and ordered her to remove all her clothes. She said she was then wrapped in a chador while naked and taken by force to a basement cell.
Less than 10 minutes later, Marzban wrote, a masked man entered the cell and raped her despite her resistance, screams and protests.
“Time felt like years,” she wrote. “I don’t know, perhaps half an hour; perhaps less or more.”
Marzban said she was left bleeding on the floor of the cell after the assault.
She said two masked women and another woman dressed as a nurse entered the cell several minutes later and treated her injuries.
Marzban said several men subsequently told her she would be released that night if she remained silent about what had happened. She was blindfolded again, driven away from the facility and repeatedly warned during the journey about the consequences of speaking out, according to her letter.
She said she was eventually left near her home at around 7 p.m.
Silence and a second arrest
Marzban said she initially told no one about the assault, including her spouse, who she said had lived for years with advanced Parkinson’s disease.
“After this incident, I became isolated, distanced myself from others and stopped going to the park for walks,” she wrote.
She was arrested again around midnight on January 14, 2026, and taken to the same Intelligence Ministry detention facility, according to the letter.
Marzban said the greatest source of torment during the 22 days she spent there was the fear that she would be sexually assaulted again.
She said she repeatedly objected to men entering the women’s detention area and was met with hostility from officials.
Marzban, who converted to Catholic Christianity, was later transferred to Evin prison. She was sentenced by a Tehran Revolutionary Court in June to nine years and eight months in prison on charges including “propaganda against the system” and “assembly and collusion against national security.”
She said she tried several times during her later detention to file a formal complaint over the alleged 2023 assault, but officials prevented her from doing so and threatened her into silence.
Seven months after her latest arrest, she wrote, the sight of men still causes her anxiety.
Previous allegations of sexual violence in detention
Marzban’s account adds to years of allegations by political prisoners and protesters who have described rape, sexual assault and other forms of sexual violence in Iranian prisons and detention centers.
Iran International reported in February that several women and girls detained during January’s protests said they had been sexually assaulted or raped in custody. Among them were a young woman and a 17-year-old girl who said they were raped at an unofficial detention facility operated by the Revolutionary Guards.
Twenty-two female political and religious prisoners at Evin also wrote that year demanding an investigation into what they described as sexual abuse during body searches.
A year-long Iran International investigation published in 2024 found evidence that security forces had used sexual violence against protesters across several provinces during the 2022 demonstrations.
Victims have often said fear of retaliation and distrust of Iran’s judicial system deterred them from filing complaints, while those who did pursue cases frequently said their complaints went nowhere.
Marzban said she was speaking publicly in the hope that others who had suffered similar abuse would feel able to tell their stories.
“I hope that one day the seeds of our suffering will sprout,” she wrote, “and the tree of our demand for justice will grow strong.”
The men who spent the war demanding control of the Strait of Hormuz have returned to demanding control of women's clothing. As the fighting subsides, Iran's hardliners are pressing to revive a hijab law the state itself suspended for fear of new protests.
The push is coming from figures with real leverage, including inside the judiciary, and it has two aims: harsher enforcement of the dress code now, and an end to the suspension of Iran's strict Hijab and Chastity law.
Tehran Prosecutor Ali Salehi said on Monday the judiciary was preparing to move against cafes, restaurants and clothing stores for "committing acts contrary to public chastity and selling unconventional clothing."
On Thursday he went further, ordering judicial authorities to identify and confront what he called "organized and networked actors" promoting unveiling, whom he accused of spreading corruption in public places and offending public sentiment.
The closures were already underway. In recent weeks authorities have shut cafes, restaurants, shops and sports clubs in more than 15 cities, including Tehran, over hijab violations by customers or staff.
Women have also been blocked from obtaining motorcycle licenses, despite a government decision sent to police in February.
The reformist daily Shargh wrote on Wednesday that the resistance appeared to have little to do with law or road safety, and everything to do with what women would be wearing on the bikes.
'Hijab is a flag'
The pressure is louder on the street and online than in the institutions.
Hijab has moved to the front of the placards and slogans at the nightly pro-government rallies, according to social media users who follow them. Those gatherings drew some unveiled women in the early weeks of the war. They are far smaller now, and the crowd is almost entirely hardline.
Their target is often President Masoud Pezeshkian, who has not submitted the Hijab and Chastity law to government bodies for implementation, and whom demonstrators accuse of letting unveiled women multiply.
Pezeshkian has not objected to the law itself. The decision to freeze it was taken above him, out of fear that enforcing it would set off a new wave of anti-government protests.
Female hardliners have held their own gatherings in cities including Isfahan and Mashhad. Outside the governor's office in Isfahan, one placard carried a line attributed to Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu: "Unveiled women are our free soldiers."
Online, hardliners have been circulating footage of women walking, exercising, dancing and singing in shopping centers, cafes and streets, demanding that the authorities act against women they call "naked."
"Do you see the widespread wave of hijab tweets? The message is completely clear: the authorities have made up their minds to put an end to this situation. I can't wait for the operational phase to begin as soon as possible," one hardline user wrote.
The argument they make for themselves is that the veil is not a rule but a banner. "Hijab is the flag of the Islamic Republic and must not be allowed to fall," runs a common formulation.
"Hijab is not merely a secondary religious ruling; hijab is a flag," a hardline cleric posted. "If there is leniency over it, it will lead to the destruction of the family and the weakening of other religious laws." His patience, he warned, and that of others like him, could run out.
Other users have been keeping score. One noted that the same voices who spent the war demanding control of the Strait of Hormuz, guaranteed revenues from the waterway and a seat at the table of global oil pricing had "returned to factory settings," their attention back on women’s clothing.
A law too dangerous to use
The Hijab and Chastity law, finalized in 2024, is harsher than anything before it, and includes provisions that would let civilian groups confront women over their clothing.
It has never been enforced. Implementation was suspended over fears it would set off protests on the scale of those that followed Mahsa Amini's death, and the Supreme National Security Council's decision still stands.
The freeze carries the late supreme leader's authority. Interior Ministry spokesman Ali Zeynivand said this month that it was decided under Ali Khamenei and has not changed, and that Pezeshkian, too, supports it.
Meanwhile, the streets have moved. Unveiled women are far more visible than a year ago, and many now dress in ways that would have been unthinkable in public not long before.
Women's rights activists warn against reading that as the end of compulsory hijab. Women employed in government offices and institutions are still held to the dress code, and unveiled women are still turned away from some buildings and services unless they cover their hair, arms and legs.
Some users see the easing as a product of the war rather than a change of policy, and expect it to end with the fighting. "If the situation becomes more stable, I doubt the authorities will refrain from bringing their repressive forces back onto the streets to enforce hijab on women," one wrote.
Even among those who support compulsory hijab, some think a crackdown now would backfire. Morteza Panahian, a young cleric who has also criticized the refusal to license women motorcyclists, wrote that anyone blaming the spread of unveiling on the law's suspension had evidently never read the law.
"This law is so impossible to implement that, if it is promulgated, the pace of unveiling will double," he wrote.