The police were unable to contain the crowd. As soon as they saw the Palestinian prisoners through the bus windows, hundreds of people gathered outside a theater in Ramallah, in the occupied West Bank, rushed to chant the names of loved ones they had not seen in years and, in some cases, decades.
The prisoners were emaciated and the sharp corners of their faces were decorated with freshly scabbed wounds. Loved ones carried them on their shoulders with ease. A prisoner, wrapped in a Palestinian keffiyeh and spreading his fingers in a V in victory, fell before his mother, whose feet he began to kiss.
In total, 88 Palestinians were released from Israeli prisons and sent to the occupied West Bank on Monday; the other nearly 2,000, a figure that includes some 1,700 Palestinians captured in Gaza during the war and held without charge, were sent back to Gaza, where a minority would travel to neighboring countries.
The detainees and prisoners were released by Israel a few hours after all living Israeli hostages were returned from Gaza. The exchange marked the first step in a ceasefire that could permanently end the two-year conflict in the territory.
The geopolitical implications of the release were far from the minds of families in Ramallah on Monday; most were celebrating a liberation they never thought would come. Most of the men who returned to the West Bank were serving life sentences and many were charged with violent crimes.
“He has been locked up for 24 years,” said a relative of Saber Masalma, a member of Fatah, the main faction of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), who was arrested in 2002 and sentenced to life in prison on charges of conspiracy to cause death and placing explosive charges.
He shoved a phone in Masalma’s face, eager to introduce him to his adult niece via video call, while juggling requests for selfies with his relatives.
He had not seen Masalma for two years, as Israel had cut off family visits to detainees after the Oct. 7 attack by Hamas-led militants that killed about 1,200 people and took 251 hostages. Masalma had warned him over the phone that she might not recognize him because of the weight he had lost in prison.
“He looks like a corpse. But we will bring him back to life,” he said, laughing. They headed to a restaurant, where they would have to be careful that Saber didn’t eat too much, since his stomach wasn’t used to a lot of food after not eating well in prison.
The other prisoners also seemed to be in bad shape. Their cheekbones stuck out, some had marks from recent beatings, and some couldn’t walk without family members holding them.
When asked about their treatment in prisons, one detainee apologized and said he could not answer for fear of reprisals from the Israeli authorities, saying only that it was “horrible.”
Another prisoner said conditions were “very, very, very difficult” and that the last two years in prison were the “worst two years of his life,” and asked not to be identified.
Before Monday’s release, 11,056 Palestinians were held in Israeli prisons, according to statistics from the Israeli NGO HaMoked in October 2025. At least 3,500 of them were held in administrative detention without trial.
Palestinians have faced abuse and inhuman treatment in Israeli prisons “as a matter of policy,” according to Israeli human rights organization B’Tselem. The group alleges that Palestinian prisoners are denied medical treatment, adequate food and face physical abuse in Israeli prisons.
Activists have long said that large-scale imprisonment of Palestinians is used as a tool to enforce Israeli occupation of Palestinian territories, and statistics estimate that up to 40% of Palestinians have been arrested at some point.
Israel says its prison system complies with international law.
Israel also banned celebrations for the prisoners’ release on Monday, firing tear gas at relatives and journalists waiting near Ofer prison in the occupied West Bank, where the detainees were being held. A leaflet distributed by the Israeli army warned people that “we are watching you everywhere” and threatened that if you support “terrorist organizations” you could be arrested.
Six different relatives of prisoners said they had been visited by Israeli security services in recent days.
“They came to warn us not to hold celebrations, not to raise flags or banners, not to gather in the diwan (hall). These days, the most difficult thing is to tell the truth,” said a relative of prisoner Hani al-Zeer, who asked not to be identified for fear of security repercussions. Al-Zeer had been imprisoned for 23 years, and his relative, as well as al-Zeer’s son, had also been imprisoned several times.
Amidst the scenes of joy, there was also sadness. Several families who had been informed by Israeli security services that their relatives would be returning home were surprised to see that they were not on the buses on Monday.
Hours before his release, two different lists of prisoners circulated. On one list, some prisoners were to be released back home, on the other, prisoners were to be deported to Gaza.
For Um Abed, whose brother was scheduled to be released, the sudden possibility that her brother, Kamal Imran, could be deported to Gaza, came as a shock. If he was deported to Gaza, she had virtually no way to see him unless she could leave the territory.
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“We have been waiting here for his release for two days. We are shocked to hear this. The Israelis broke into our house and told us that we were forbidden to do any kind of celebration, so he should be released,” said Um Abed, with tears in her eyes.
He waited anxiously for the buses to arrive at the stopping point in Ramallah, waiting for his brother to get out. When the last man got off the buses with no sign of her brother, she put her hands to her cheeks and wailed.
Others had evidently been told that their loved ones were returning home, only to discover at the last minute that they were being deported. “Why are they deporting him?” One woman screamed through tears as police officers led her away from the crowd.
“It would have been easier if they had told us from the beginning. We don’t know where it is. Egypt? Gaza? We are devastated,” said Raed Imran, as he led Abed to the car where he had been preparing to greet his brother.