Mohammad Sadra Zareipour was another flower cut down at this school.
His father says the number of martyrs was so high, and identifying the bodies was so difficult, that the morgue had written the details of the bodies on separate sheets of paper. “We told them he had a ring,” his father recalls. “They gave us multiple body numbers to check including 96.”
When they reached body number 96, they saw that their dear Mohammad Sadra’s left hand was resting on his chest, and the ring was on his finger. “Before I could be certain it was him, I saw my brother kneel down there. At that moment, I knew the story of the hope of my life had ended.”
His brother, crying bitterly, said: “It is him. It is really him.”
His father tried to control himself and looked for other signs: the mole under his chin, and then his sock. Only one sock was still left on one of his feet. His clothes had been completely destroyed.
“I took off the sock and went to his mother, who was waiting outside in the car. I had to show it to her so we could be sure. Only the lower part of our child’s chin had remained intact; almost ninety percent of his face was gone. The sock was in my pocket. I asked his mother, ‘What color was Mohammad Sadra’s sock?’ Then I had to show it to her. When she saw it, she said: ‘It is him.’”