The police could not hold the crowds back. As soon as they saw the Palestinian prisoners and detainees through the windows of the bus, hundreds of people gathering in front of a theatre in Ramallah in the occupied West Bank rushed forward, chanting the names of loved ones they had not seen for years or, in some cases, decades.
Their faces were gaunt, the sharp angles decorated by freshly scabbed-over wounds. Loved ones hoisted them up on their shoulders with ease. One, swaddled in a Palestinian keffiyeh and splaying his fingers into a V for victory, was dropped 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 number that includes about 1,700 Palestinians seized from Gaza during the war and held without charge, were sent back to Gaza, where a minority would travel on to neighbouring countries.
The prisoners and detainees 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.
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 those were held in administrative detention without trial. An Israeli military database has indicated that only a quarter of those detained in Gaza were classified as fighters.
The political implication of the release was far from families’ minds in Ramallah on Monday; most were celebrating a day they never thought would come.
Most of the men returning to the West Bank were serving life sentences and many were charged with violent crimes including murder and deadly attacks against Israelis.
“He’s been locked up for 24 years,” said a relative of Saber Masalma, a member of Fatah, the main faction of the Palestine Liberation Organization. Masalma 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 over a video call, while he juggled requests for selfies with his relatives.
He had not seen Masalma for two years, as Israel had restricted family visits after the 7 October attack by Hamas-led militants who killed about 1,200 people and took 251 hostages. Masalma had warned him over the phone that he might not recognise him owing to the amount of weight he had lost in prison.
“He looks like a dead body. But we will bring him back to life,” he said, laughing. They were off to a restaurant, where they would have to be careful that Masalma did not eat too much, as his stomach was not used to much food after not eating well in prison.
The others also looked to be in bad shape. Their cheekbones jutted out, with some bearing the marks of recent beatings and a few unable to walk without being propped up by their relatives.
When asked about their treatment in the prisons, a prisoner apologised and said he could not answer, for fear that he would face repercussions from Israeli authorities, only saying that it was “horrible”.
Another said that the conditions were “very, very, very difficult,” and that the last two years in prison were the “worst two years of his life”, asking that he not be named.
Palestinians have faced abuse and inhumane treatment in Israeli prisons “as a matter of policy” according to the Israeli human rights organisation B’Tselem. The group alleges that Palestinian detainees are denied medical treatment, adequate food and face physical abuse in Israeli prisons.
Activists have long said that wide-scale imprisonment of Palestinians is used as a tool to enforce Israel’s occupation of the Palestinian territories, with statistics estimating up to 40% of Palestinians have been arrested at some point.
Israel says its prison system complies with international law.
Israel also forbade people from celebrating the release on Monday, firing teargas at family members and journalists waiting near Ofer prison in the occupied West Bank, where detainees were kept. A flyer distributed by the Israeli military warned people that “we are surveilling you everywhere” and threatening that if they supported “terrorist organisations” they could be arrested.
Six different relatives of prisoners all 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 hardest thing is to speak the truth,” said a relative of the prisoner Hani al-Zeer, who asked not to be identified by name out of fear of security repercussions. Zeer had been imprisoned for 23 years, and the relative, as well as Zeer’s son, had also been imprisoned several times.
Amid the scenes of joy, there was also sorrow. Several families who had been told by the Israeli security services that their family members would be returning home were surprised to see that they were not on the buses on Monday.
Two different prisoner lists were circulating in the hours before the releases. On one list, some were slated to be released back home, on the other, detainees and prisoners were to be deported to Gaza.
To Umm Abed, whose brother had been scheduled for release, the sudden possibility that her brother, Kamal Imran, could be deported to Gaza, came as a shock. If he was deported to Gaza, there was virtually no way for her to see him unless he was able to leave the territory.
“We’ve been waiting here for his release for two days. We’re shocked to hear this. The Israelis stormed our house and told us we were forbidden from doing any kind of celebration – so he should be released,” said Umm Abed, tears in her eyes.
She waited anxiously as the buses arrived to the drop-off point in Ramallah, waiting for her brother to emerge. When the last man got off the buses with no sign of her brother, she clutched her cheeks and wailed.
Others evidently had been told their loved ones were to be returned home, only to find out at the last minute that they were being deported. “Why are they deporting him?” a woman screamed in tears, as police officers rushed her away from the crowd.
“It would have been easier if they just told us from the beginning. We don’t know where he is. Egypt? Gaza? We are devastated,” said Raed Imran, as he led Umm Abed to the car where she had been preparing to receive her brother.
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