Gaza City, Gaza Strip – In her makeshift canvas tent, Inaam al-Dahdouh sits with her six grandchildren, turning over a photograph of her three sons, detained two years ago in the first few months of Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza.

As Palestinian Prisoners’ Day is marked on Friday, the 62-year-old mother finds herself living a different kind of pain this year.

It is no longer only the anguish of imprisonment and separation, but a looming fear shaped by new and uncertain scenarios following the approval of an Israeli law allowing the execution of Palestinian prisoners in late March 2026.

Palestinians mark Palestinian Prisoners’ Day annually on April 17. This year, it comes amid an unprecedented surge in the number of detainees and worsening conditions.

According to prisoners’ advocacy groups, more than 9,600 Palestinians are currently held in Israeli prisons as of early April 2026, compared with about 5,250 before the war – an increase of nearly 83 percent. They include 350 children, and more than 3,530 administrative detainees held without charge.

More than 100 prisoners have also died in custody since the war began in October 2023, amid reports of a severe deterioration in detention conditions.

But now the fear is that Israel will attempt to execute Palestinian prisoners. The Israeli parliament passed a law on March 30 allowing the death penalty to be implemented, but only against those convicted in a military court of killing Israelis.

In practice, that means West Bank Palestinians, as Israelis are tried in civilian courts, but there is also discussion of a separate tribunal for Palestinians from Gaza, for which the Israeli right-wing is likely to push the use of the death penalty.

Israeli legislators, including National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, celebrated the death penalty ruling, while Israel was internationally condemned for what critics perceive to be yet another example of Israeli apartheid against Palestinians.

Detention

Three of Inaam’s sons, 30-year-old Mahmoud, 27-year-old Alaa, and 24-year-old Diaa, were detained on December 15, 2023, after a days-long Israeli attack on al-Shifa Hospital, which was near the house they had been living in.

The family had endured a five-day-long siege before Israeli forces stormed their house amid heavy gunfire.

“There was no time to think,” Inaam says. “They were firing bullets at our feet, and the children were screaming around me … I just wanted to hide them behind me.”

Mahmoud, Alaa, and Diaa were bound and blindfolded before being taken away by the Israeli soldiers. Inaam fled south with the other women and the children of the family, but her husband, Naeem, who was 65 at the time, refused to run away.

Ten days later, his body was found nearby.

Civilians

Inaam explains that her children are civilians. Mahmoud is a father of six children, his youngest born during the war. Alaa had completed his law degree, while Diaa was preparing to start life after high school.

Both Alaa and Diaa were engaged.

“We were planning to marry them in October, the same month the war began … but it never happened,” Inaam says, before adding, “Their fiancees are still waiting.”

“My sons worked with their father at a petrol station we own, and they were living stable lives,” she says. “Why were they arrested?”

Inaam has had little information about her sons since they were arrested, and they were not released as part of any deal. The only way she learns anything about them is through fragments of information carried by released prisoners.

“Every piece of news, no matter how small, is like a thin thread I cling to, to remain certain that my sons are still alive,” Inaam says.

Through these indirect testimonies, Inaam has begun to form an incomplete picture of where her sons are being held.

Alaa and Diaa, the two engaged brothers, were transferred to Negev prison, while Mahmoud was reportedly seen in Ofer prison, although locations often change due to frequent transfers.

“This is the last information I received … but now I don’t know anything about them.”

Fear of death penalty law

The news of the death penalty law passing has worried Inaam further.

Fighting back her emotions, she explains that she could bear the idea of hunger, suffering, or even torture in prison, but not this.

“They can endure hunger … we tell ourselves they can endure it. But execution? Not to that extent.”

Despite reassurances and interpretations suggesting the law targets a specific category of prisoners accused of killing Israelis, she cannot dismiss the possibility that it could affect her sons.

“Even those accused, how can a decision like execution be issued?” she asks.

“Just the fact that such a law exists and is accepted makes any mother in my place unable to feel any peace while her son is in prison.”

In her sons’ absence, Inaam tries to fill the void as best as she can. She takes care of Mahmoud’s children – her grandchildren – and looks for ways to keep their father present in their lives.

“I raise them and teach them the Quran,” she says, explaining that she keeps herself occupied with this as a gift for Mahmoud, who would be happy to see his children memorising the Quran, as he had wished before his detention.

For Inaam, the only solution for her sons and all prisoners is what she describes as a “global stance” to pressure Israel to reverse what she calls unjust decisions against prisoners.

“The whole world should reject this,” she says.

“A prisoner has the right to live, the right to dignity … what is happening to prisoners is something insane … something the human mind cannot comprehend.”