Ruth Sherlock

Hundreds of people walk up the snaking dirt paths that lead up the hill to Sadnaya prison. Many are immaculately dressed, as if they hope that today they might finally meet their loved one that disappeared here. Nader Sabsabi says his brother was detained in 2012. He searches a handwritten ledger he's found with names of the detainees for clues.

Hundreds of people walk up the snaking dirt paths that lead up the hill to Sadnaya prison. Many are immaculately dressed, as if they hope that today they might finally meet their loved one that disappeared here. Nader Sabsabi says his brother was detained in 2012. He searches a handwritten ledger he's found with names of the detainees for clues.

Hundreds of people walk up the snaking dirt paths that lead up the hill to Sadnaya prison. Many are immaculately dressed, as if they hope that today they might finally meet their loved one that disappeared here. Nader Sabsabi says his brother was detained in 2012. He searches a handwritten ledger he's found with names of the detainees for clues.

My brother went out of the house to buy bread. He was stopped at a checkpoint, and that's all we know. Sabsebi has made the hours-long journey from his home city of Dera to here every day since the regime fell to search.

My brother went out of the house to buy bread. He was stopped at a checkpoint, and that's all we know. Sabsebi has made the hours-long journey from his home city of Dera to here every day since the regime fell to search.

My brother went out of the house to buy bread. He was stopped at a checkpoint, and that's all we know. Sabsebi has made the hours-long journey from his home city of Dera to here every day since the regime fell to search.

Most prisoners were released by opposition rebels in the hours after the regime collapsed, but people believe there could be more cells, hidden underground where others might be alive. The commotion, the shooting in the air and people running towards the prisoners because we understand they've managed to open a new door. OK, we're inside the courtyard of the prison.

Most prisoners were released by opposition rebels in the hours after the regime collapsed, but people believe there could be more cells, hidden underground where others might be alive. The commotion, the shooting in the air and people running towards the prisoners because we understand they've managed to open a new door. OK, we're inside the courtyard of the prison.

Most prisoners were released by opposition rebels in the hours after the regime collapsed, but people believe there could be more cells, hidden underground where others might be alive. The commotion, the shooting in the air and people running towards the prisoners because we understand they've managed to open a new door. OK, we're inside the courtyard of the prison.

They've just closed the doors behind us because they want to stop the crowds. They believe they've found something and they need silence. They need calm to try to hear the voices of the prisoners. A rebel shouts for quiet, but it's too chaotic, with hundreds of people combing the jail. Some hack at the concrete floor with metal pipes, a desperate hope that someone could be underneath.

They've just closed the doors behind us because they want to stop the crowds. They believe they've found something and they need silence. They need calm to try to hear the voices of the prisoners. A rebel shouts for quiet, but it's too chaotic, with hundreds of people combing the jail. Some hack at the concrete floor with metal pipes, a desperate hope that someone could be underneath.

They've just closed the doors behind us because they want to stop the crowds. They believe they've found something and they need silence. They need calm to try to hear the voices of the prisoners. A rebel shouts for quiet, but it's too chaotic, with hundreds of people combing the jail. Some hack at the concrete floor with metal pipes, a desperate hope that someone could be underneath.

Anything seems possible in this place that Syrians have known for so long as a centre of torture, where prisoners were hung by ropes, beaten, starved. Isra Kouki says Sednaya is worse than anyone can imagine. A slaughterhouse, she says. Her brother was in here for years. She heard he'd been killed, but never received a death certificate. So all this time, she's kept a shred of hope.

Anything seems possible in this place that Syrians have known for so long as a centre of torture, where prisoners were hung by ropes, beaten, starved. Isra Kouki says Sednaya is worse than anyone can imagine. A slaughterhouse, she says. Her brother was in here for years. She heard he'd been killed, but never received a death certificate. So all this time, she's kept a shred of hope.

Anything seems possible in this place that Syrians have known for so long as a centre of torture, where prisoners were hung by ropes, beaten, starved. Isra Kouki says Sednaya is worse than anyone can imagine. A slaughterhouse, she says. Her brother was in here for years. She heard he'd been killed, but never received a death certificate. So all this time, she's kept a shred of hope.

Outside this section of the prison, we meet Aissa Hosseini. He's searching for his three cousins and asks us what we've seen inside. The Assad regime didn't usually tell families where the detained were held or even if they were still alive. Husseini searched every prison in the capital, every institution. It's too much. Some 100,000 Syrians disappeared into jails like these, say rights groups.

Outside this section of the prison, we meet Aissa Hosseini. He's searching for his three cousins and asks us what we've seen inside. The Assad regime didn't usually tell families where the detained were held or even if they were still alive. Husseini searched every prison in the capital, every institution. It's too much. Some 100,000 Syrians disappeared into jails like these, say rights groups.

Outside this section of the prison, we meet Aissa Hosseini. He's searching for his three cousins and asks us what we've seen inside. The Assad regime didn't usually tell families where the detained were held or even if they were still alive. Husseini searched every prison in the capital, every institution. It's too much. Some 100,000 Syrians disappeared into jails like these, say rights groups.

It's getting dark, and rescuers end their search in Sednaya. There are no more secret cells, no more hope for families like Husseini. As we leave, we meet Samer Haida. He's come with his four young children.

It's getting dark, and rescuers end their search in Sednaya. There are no more secret cells, no more hope for families like Husseini. As we leave, we meet Samer Haida. He's come with his four young children.