In August 2026, Iran experienced one of the heaviest waves of executions in recent years. According to reports by independent human rights organizations, at least 82 people were executed during this month, while only a small portion of these sentences were announced by official sources. This gap between the reality of executions and official reporting demonstrates that the death penalty in the Islamic Republic is a widespread, concealed, and organized mechanism within the structures of governance and the judicial system. In the first eight months of the year, the number of executions also reached 532; among those executed were women, protesters, political prisoners, members of national and religious minorities, and Afghan refugees.
This scale presents a clear picture of a criminal justice system that places the death penalty at the center of its criminal policy. In such a system, execution is not merely regarded as a response to a crime; rather, it becomes a tool for creating fear, silencing dissent, controlling marginalized groups, and consolidating political authority. The lack of transparency, limited access to independent lawyers, forced confessions, unfair proceedings, and disregard for fair-trial standards eliminate the possibility of independently assessing cases and create the conditions for unjust verdicts.
Among the executions during this period, the situation of women holds particular significance. In August alone, six women were executed; this represented the highest monthly number of executions of women in 2026. Many of these women, before reaching the gallows, had themselves been victims of domestic violence, forced marriage, poverty, legal discrimination, economic dependence, and the absence of social support. They are often placed in circumstances in which they have no ability to leave violent relationships, effectively seek help from the police, obtain legal assistance, or find shelter in a safe place. Then the very structure that denied them protection interprets their defensive or reactive behavior as an “independent crime.”
As human rights organizations have emphasized, women in Iran are not only victims of death sentences but also victims of a structure that places them in vulnerable positions from the outset. Unequal laws concerning marriage, divorce, custody, testimony, and access to economic resources have brought the suffering and deprivation of women in this society to catastrophic levels. In many cases, a history of prolonged violence or family coercion is not examined as a determining context of the crime. As a result, the victim of violence becomes the primary defendant in judicial proceedings, while the responsibility of the social and legal structures that produce violence is ignored.
Among all these cases, the story of Marzieh Neyri exposes the institutionalized injustice of Iran’s judicial system more than any other example. Marzieh was forced into marriage at the age of 17; a marriage that was not based on free choice, but formed under family pressure and in circumstances where social support was absent. She entered married life at an age when she was still socially and developmentally vulnerable. Her life quickly became a cycle of violence, threats, and abuse. According to published reports concerning her case, her husband would bring his business partners home to drink alcoholic beverages, and they repeatedly sexually assaulted Marzieh.
For a girl who had barely left childhood behind, such circumstances meant living in an environment that was constantly unsafe and without protection. She had neither effective support from her family nor a safe mechanism through which to escape the violence, nor could she confidently turn to law-enforcement and judicial institutions. This point is fundamentally important in analyzing the case: Marzieh’s final actions cannot be examined separately from years of violence, coercion, fear, and social isolation.
At the age of 18, one of these men attempted to assault her in the presence of Marzieh’s husband. Marzieh picked up a kitchen knife to defend her life and dignity. During the confrontation, the attacker was wounded, and her husband was also killed. Marzieh surrendered herself four days later and swore in court that she had acted solely in self-defense. Nevertheless, her account found no receptive ear during the judicial proceedings. The court rejected her claim of self-defense and convicted her of intentional murder; a sentence that, under the punishment of qisas, ultimately led to her death.
The case of Marzieh Neyri demonstrates how the concept of self-defense, when raised by women who are victims of domestic violence, can be interpreted in a discriminatory manner. In cases such as Marzieh’s, a woman is forced to make a decision within a few brief moments in the face of an immediate danger; that decision is then judged according to cruel standards detached from the circumstances of her life.
Marzieh spent five years in prison; five years waiting for a sentence that had been issued from the outset on the basis of ignoring the reality of her life. Finally, on August 8, 2026, when she was only 24 years old, she was executed at Qazvin Central Prison. She was a victim of a system that, from childhood until the moment of her death, failed to provide her with effective protection. Marzieh’s life began with forced marriage, continued through violence and abuse, and ultimately ended with an unjust judicial sentence that failed to recognize the circumstances of her victimization.
The widespread executions of 2026, from protesters to women and minorities, like similar cases in previous years, demonstrate that the death penalty in Iran is not merely a criminal justice tool; it is part of a policy of social and political control. In this context, cases such as that of Marzieh Neyri remind us that injustice against women does not begin at the moment a sentence is issued; rather, it passes through the family, school, law, labor market, law-enforcement institutions, and social relations, reaching its culmination in the courtroom.
Marzieh’s painful fate from childhood to young adulthood demonstrates how women in Iran become trapped in a cycle of institutionalized discrimination and injustice: first, they are deprived of the right to choose and of security; then they are left without protection in the face of violence; and finally, when they react in self-defense, they are punished as criminals. This reality concerns not merely one case; it constitutes a serious indictment of the entire judicial system of the Islamic Republic. A system in which the right to life, fair trial, and equal protection of citizens, particularly women and marginalized groups, are knowingly and institutionally violated.
