Azadi Post: It is not easy to treat what happened in Hasakah and Kobani over the past two days as merely two separate security incidents, or as the natural consequence of a passing tribal tension. When a Kurdish young man is abducted and killed under circumstances bearing the hallmarks of revenge, and, in the same context, a prison in the Kurdish city of Kobani catches fire, leaving a number of detainees dead and wounded, the political and security question becomes far greater than the details of the crime itself: Who is managing the scene? Who possesses the weapons? Who bears responsibility for protecting people? And who benefits from transforming national tensions into internal conflict?

The killing of the Kurdish young man Sami Sheikhmous Hasso, known as “Siban Qamishli,” after his abduction in Hasakah, was presented in reports as a crime with a revenge-related background linked to a tribal group. But reducing the case to the phrase “tribal revenge” may be the easiest media explanation—and the poorest political one. The question that must be asked clearly is: How does a tribe become an armed instrument operating outside the law? Who allows armed groups to carry out abductions and killings on national or retaliatory grounds? Are we dealing with an isolated criminal act, or with a political and security environment in which certain local forces are being used to strike at the Kurds and reproduce the narrative of an Arab–Kurdish conflict?

Here, in particular, caution is necessary before holding Syrian Arabs in general responsible for a crime committed by armed men or specific groups. This is not a conflict between Arabs and Kurds; it is a question of state, law, weapons, and accountability. Turning Siban’s killing into a confrontation between two nationalities is precisely what must be rejected, because the primary beneficiary of such a formula is anyone seeking to tear Syrian society apart from within and reproduce the logic of revenge instead of the logic of justice.

More dangerously, however, Siban’s murder did not remain an isolated crime. It occurred amid an atmosphere of tension that culminated in deadly events inside Kobani, where a fire broke out in the central prison and, according to sources, killed at least eight to ten prisoners and injured dozens more, with significant discrepancies among sources regarding the final toll.

And this is where the questions begin—questions that cannot be buried beneath the rubble of the fire.

Who was responsible for the prison when the fire broke out?

This is not a minor detail. A statement attributed to the Internal Security Forces in Aleppo says that the Ain al-Arab/Kobani prison had not yet been handed over to the official government authorities. At the same time, the prison was situated within complex transitional security and political arrangements, while there were reports that prisoners had refused to be transferred to Aleppo.

If the prison had not actually been transferred to the authority of Damascus, then who was responsible for protecting and administering it? If it was under the responsibility of a local authority, who issued orders at the moment the fire broke out? Who was responsible for opening the doors and rescuing the prisoners? And if there was security coordination between more than one party, where was that coordination when the prison became a death trap?

These are not political luxuries. A prisoner, regardless of his affiliation or the charge against him, is entrusted to the authority holding him. From the moment the cell door closes behind him, moral and legal responsibility for his safety passes to the prison authority. Therefore, the deaths of prisoners by burning or suffocation cannot be reduced to the phrase “a fire broke out,” as though this were an abandoned warehouse.

Even more alarming is the account claiming that the prisoners themselves started the fire in protest against their transfer to a prison in Aleppo. Until now, this account should not be treated as an established fact, but as a claim requiring an independent investigation. If the prisoners actually barricaded the doors or carried out acts of disobedience inside the prison, that does not absolve the facility’s administration of its responsibility to implement rescue procedures. And if the fire broke out under mysterious circumstances, the question becomes even more pressing: Why were the doors not opened immediately to rescue those trapped inside?

If it is established that the prison doors remained closed despite the fire, then we are no longer speaking merely of a “fire accident,” but of the possibility of grave negligence or a security decision that resulted in the deaths of people who could have been saved. But if it is established that the doors were in fact opened and that comprehensive rescue efforts were undertaken, the responsible authorities must provide the public with evidence, recordings, and timelines, rather than leaving the field open to contradictory narratives.

The real question is not merely: Who started the fire? It is: Why did these people die in it?

There is a profound difference between a sudden fire occurring in an ordinary facility and a fire occurring inside a prison containing people whose movement is restricted, with doors, barriers, and security posts, and which is supposed to have clear emergency procedures. Therefore, any serious investigation must establish, minute by minute: When did the disorder begin? When did the fire begin? Where did it start? Who locked the doors? Who had the keys? When did rescue teams arrive? And why were all the prisoners not evacuated?

As for the claim that the prisoners “burned themselves,” presenting it as a ready-made conclusion is not an investigation; it is itself a narrative that requires investigation.

More importantly, the timing of these events raises a political question that cannot be evaded: Are we witnessing a security breakdown, or the organized exploitation of a security breakdown during an extremely sensitive transitional period?

I am not saying that the fire was deliberate before conclusive evidence emerges, and no serious writer should turn suspicion into fact. At the same time, however, the word “accident” must not become a curtain preventing an investigation. There is a fundamental difference between saying “the fire was deliberate” and saying that the circumstances of the fire require an investigation into the possibility of deliberate action or gross negligence. That is precisely what political and moral responsibility demands.

For decades, Syrians have suffered from a culture of closing cases before the truth is known. Whenever people are killed, a ready-made narrative appears; whenever a crime occurs, someone is sought to bear the blame; whenever detainees die, the question of responsibility becomes more dangerous than the question of the victims themselves. This culture must end. Otherwise, the “new Syria” will be new only in the names of its institutions.

As for Siban’s murder, it must not become a pretext for an Arab–Kurdish war. If armed groups committed the crime in the name of tribal revenge or retaliation, they must be held accountable as groups operating outside the law, not as representatives of Arabs. Conversely, the crime must not be used to justify collective revenge against any Arab community. Justice ceases to be justice when it becomes national or ethnic revenge.

At the same time, the authorities in Damascus are required to adopt a clear position that leaves no room for maneuvering: if they have assumed responsibility for public security in areas where their institutions have entered, they must protect all citizens without discrimination. If they have not yet taken control of certain security institutions, they must explain to the public the limits of their responsibilities and who holds decision-making authority within those institutions. For the authorities to be politically responsible without being security-wise responsible is a situation that cannot continue.

A state cannot choose when to accept responsibility. It cannot say, “This region is under my authority” when sovereignty is at stake, and then say, “It is not my responsibility” when prisoners die inside a security institution.

Therefore, what is required is not a formal committee that ends with a press statement, but an independent and transparent investigation into both the killing of Siban and the Kobani prison fire. The investigation must identify the perpetrators, as well as any parties that assisted or covered for them, if such parties exist; identify those responsible for administering the prison; examine surveillance recordings, guard logs, and communications records; establish the precise chronology of the fire; hear testimony from survivors and the wounded; and then publish the findings to the public.

If it is established that the fire was deliberate, those responsible must face the maximum penalties provided for by law, regardless of the authority or group to which they belong. If it is established that negligence or dereliction of duty contributed to the deaths of the prisoners, then negligence in such circumstances is not a minor administrative error; it is criminal responsibility for which those who made the decisions must be held accountable.

The most dangerous thing that can happen in Syria today is not that a crime occurs; crimes can happen in any society. The greater danger is for crime to become ownerless, blood to have no accountable party, fire to have no investigation, and victims to be denied the right to know how they died.

What happened in Hasakah and Kobani must be a genuine test for the new Syrian state: Will it be a state of law, or a state of narratives? Will it be an authority that protects its citizens, or an authority searching for an explanation that absolves those responsible? And will Kurds be equal citizens within the state, or will they once again remain the weakest link in every security and political crisis?

A complete political system has fallen in Syria, but the fall of a regime does not automatically mean the fall of a culture of impunity. That is the real battle now.

Because Syria does not need more revenge, armed tribes, overlapping security agencies, or contradictory narratives.

Syria needs one truth:

Who killed Siban? Who set fire to the Kobani prison? And who prevented the rescue of those who died inside it?

And when the answer is known, no one must be above the law.