The ‘Ekbatan Kids’ Case: Criminal Justice or a Display of Security Power?

S. Rouzbeh – Is the Ekbatan Kids case simply a case of murder and street violence, or does the Islamic Republic want to turn it into a ‘symbolic security case’?

If, under the Islamic Republic’s own laws, the principle is that criminal liability is personal and that offences must be proved rigorously, why does this case, after three years, still face such extensive legal and judicial uncertainties?

Why is the government unwilling to back down in this case, despite objections from lawyers, human rights activists and a large section of public opinion?

And, ultimately, what exactly is the Islamic Republic afraid of in Ekbatan: a handful of defendants, or a generation of which Ekbatan has become a symbol?

The so-called ‘Ekbatan Kids’ case is no longer merely a criminal case concerning a street confrontation. It has become one of the most important and sensitive cases since the 1401 protests; a case in which the boundary between judicial justice, security pressure and a display of political power has been called into question more than ever.

Three years of judicial back-and-forth, overturned rulings, lawyers’ objections, uncertainty over how the offence was proved, and the government’s continued insistence on enforcing severe sentences have led many to ask: is the sole aim to punish the defendants, or does the Islamic Republic want to turn the Ekbatan case into a ‘cautionary example’ for society and the protesting generation?

A legal dissection of the case

One of the most important objections raised against the case from the outset concerned the question of ‘proving who directly committed the murder’.

Under Article 289 of the Islamic Penal Code, murder is divided into intentional murder, quasi-intentional murder and pure mistake. To prove intentional murder, the presence of intent and a direct link between the defendant’s conduct and the victim’s death are of fundamental importance.

But the incident in the Ekbatan case took place amid a mass brawl, street chaos and highly disorderly circumstances. This makes it very difficult, from a legal standpoint, to determine precisely what role each individual played.

In such cases, the court must establish precisely:

Who delivered the fatal blow?

Was a particular blow the direct cause of death?

Did all the defendants share an intention to kill?

Has a direct link between the defendant’s act and the victim’s death been proved?

In this regard, Article 125 of the Islamic Penal Code, concerning participation in an offence, states that an accomplice is someone who played an ‘effective role’ in committing the offence. Merely being present at the scene or taking part generally in a fight does not necessarily amount to directly committing murder.

Likewise, under Article 492 of the Islamic Penal Code, where several people’s actions contribute to an offence, the extent to which each person’s conduct contributed must be established.

Critics of the Ekbatan case say that one of its main uncertainties is whether the judicial authorities have been able to prove with complete certainty the precise and fatal role played by each defendant.

The presumption of innocence and the question of doubt

Another fundamental flaw in the case is the question of “doubt” and the “sufficiency of evidence”.

Article 37 of the Constitution of the Islamic Republic states: “The presumption is innocence, and no one is considered a criminal under the law unless their guilt has been established in a competent court.”

In criminal law, especially in cases where the punishment is death, the slightest doubt about the process of proving guilt is of vital importance.

In the Ekbatan case, serious questions have been raised about the confessions, the interrogation process, the reconstruction of the crime scene, forensic reports and the actual role of each defendant.

For this reason, a number of legal experts believe that, in a case like this, the principle of “interpreting doubt in favour of the accused” should have been observed with greater care.

Critics say that in a case where the punishment is the taking of human lives, mere suspicion, a security-driven atmosphere or broad inferences cannot provide a basis for a definitive and irreversible conviction.

Confessions and the prohibition of torture

Article 38 of the Constitution of the Islamic Republic states: “All forms of torture for the purpose of obtaining a confession or acquiring information are prohibited.” It also states: “A confession obtained under duress has no value or validity.”

Nevertheless, in many security cases in the Islamic Republic, psychological pressure, solitary confinement, televised confessions and the interrogation process have repeatedly been matters of debate.

For this reason, when a case carries the death penalty, any uncertainty about how a confession was obtained calls the validity of some of the evidence into question.

In a case where many questions remain about the precise role of individuals, how the death occurred and how the fatal blow was attributed, many believe that the evidence presented to issue and carry out the death sentence is not sufficient to establish “complete judicial certainty” and is not free from doubt.

Why has this case remained contested for three years?

If the case were entirely clear, simple and free of contradictions, there would not have been this scale of overturned rulings, remittals, lawyers’ objections, public reaction and concern from human rights organisations.

The Ekbatan case became complicated at the very point when it turned from a “criminal case” into a “security and symbolic case”.

What does the Islamic Republic want to prove?

For the Islamic Republic, Ekbatan is not just a neighbourhood. Because of its population, urban density and particular social structure, this area has for years been considered one of the centres of discontent, protest and confrontation with the government. During the 2022 protests, Ekbatan also became one of the symbols of urban protest and of breaking through the climate of fear. Images of nightly chants, the widespread presence of young people and the neighbourhood’s protest atmosphere received extensive attention in society and on social media.

The government knows very well that the Ekbatan case is no longer just about a few defendants; it is now part of a battle over competing narratives.

The Islamic Republic wants to show that it still has the ability to control the streets, that protest will not come without a cost, and that the security apparatus remains capable of instilling fear.

At the same time, the government is also afraid of something else: ‘Ekbatan becoming a symbol of a protesting generation.’

That is why backing down in this case would not be merely a judicial retreat for the government; it could be interpreted as a political and security defeat.

The Islamic Republic’s great contradiction

In its constitution and criminal laws, the Islamic Republic speaks of the presumption of innocence, a fair trial, the prohibition of torture and the need to prove an offence precisely.

But the experience of the past four decades—from the mass executions of the 1980s to the suppression of street protests and the sharp rise in death sentences in recent years—has led many citizens and government critics to harbour deep doubts about the independence and impartiality of the judiciary.

In Iran, the death penalty has become more than a judicial instrument: it has become a means of instilling social fear and exerting political control, one to which the government resorts more than ever in times of crisis, economic pressure, public discontent and street protests.

For this reason, public concern about the Ekbatan case is not limited to the fate of a few defendants; it reflects a deeper anxiety about the future of judicial justice, citizens’ safety and the value of human life.

Reactions and Prince Reza Pahlavi’s position

Reactions to the Ekbatan case did not remain confined to the families and human rights activists. A number of political figures opposed to the Islamic Republic also described the case as a symbol of the government’s use of execution to instil fear in society.

Among them, Prince Reza Pahlavi, responding to the death sentences handed down to the defendants in the Ekbatan case, described the Islamic Republic as a ‘regime of death and execution’ and said: ‘Against the regime of death and execution, our struggle is for life.’

These statements show that the Ekbatan case has moved beyond the bounds of a criminal case and become part of a political and social struggle over the death penalty, repression and the future of due process in Iran.

What is the duty of the people and the opposition today?

The greatest mistake in cases like these is to fall into the trap of emotional and violent reactions, because the government uses precisely this climate of securitisation and heightened emotion to justify a harsh response.

Above all, it is the duty of the people, the media, families, civil activists and the opposition to keep the legal questions alive and prevent these cases from being forgotten.

We must keep asking:

How has the precise role of the defendants been established?

What independent evidence is there?

Was the judicial process fair?

Why has the case been marked by so many contradictions and reversals?

Have the laws of the Islamic Republic itself been observed in this case?

Documented reporting, legal follow-up, pressure from public opinion, and avoiding the reduction of the case to purely emotional slogans can increase the political and international cost of such rulings.

The Ekbatan case is now about more than just a few defendants; it has become part of the struggle in Iranian society between ‘preserving power through fear’ and ‘demanding justice and transparency’.

And perhaps the most important question remains:

If even the laws enacted by the Islamic Republic itself are placed under the shadow of security considerations in cases like this, how can public trust in the concept of justice in a government that lacks it survive?