I was killed on the 25th of Aban 1401. I was twenty-eight years old, born on May 9, 1373. A native of Marodasht, a city half an hour away from Shiraz. I had a master's degree in law and was also a French and English teacher. Lover and supporter of animals, I had a cat that is now with my family, but I am not anymore! I have always loved my family and people. Indeed, I had a cafe and I always helped the needy children who came there, I gave them whatever they wanted and I felt their pain with all my heart, but the friendly people couldn't stand me and it bothered me so much that I had to close the cafe. The flow of street protests that started with the killing of Mahsa Amini all over Iran extended to Maruvasht and I was one of those who participated. With the call of Aban, a big wave started. It was on the night of November 24 that both my hands were shot, but I was able to get out of the battle. The next day, the 25th of November, there was an unprecedented gathering, and the people had a large presence. Since the suppression forces had been lurking in the mosque, I was shot in the head with a bullet from there. I fell to the ground, and the repression forces took me inside the mosque and held me. That's why when I was taken to Motahari Hospital, I was brain dead, but my family insisted that the device be connected to me, but after two days, on 28 Aban, they agreed to disconnect the device and this is the end. It was my life.
After my death, the security forces insisted that my family declare me a Basiji to hold a grand ceremony for me, but they did not consent.
On the 30th of November, my funeral ceremony was held in my father's village "Imad Abad" where the people of my town laid a stone for me. Do you know what one of my wishes was? It was to become a successful coffee shop owner, but that never happened!