Death row inmates desperate to escape execution in Saudi Arabia call the BBC

Ethiopian inmates on death row in Saudi Arabia have contacted the BBC, desperately seeking to avoid execution. Using a prison phone, some prisoners managed to obtain the number for the BBC Tigrinya service and shared their stories.

One young Ethiopian man, identified as Habtom (a changed name to protect his identity, as with other featured prisoners), conveyed his desperation and anger to the BBC from his death row cell in Khamis Mushait, where he has been held for over three years. Amidst the shouts of his cellmates, Habtom pleaded for assistance, expressing frustration that his government seemed to be doing little to alter his fate. "One prisoner cannot comfort another. We have no choice but to cry. We are waiting for our turn, even though we do not know when it will happen," Habtom stated.

Habtom and his fellow inmates had fled war and poverty in Ethiopia, hoping for a better life. However, their journey through Djibouti and Yemen led to their imprisonment in Saudi Arabia, joining a growing number of Ethiopians facing execution for drug-smuggling offenses.

Eager to share their experiences, some prisoners acquired the BBC Tigrinya service's mobile number. The BBC has spoken to seven of the dozens—potentially up to 200—Ethiopians in the prison awaiting execution. Other foreign nationals, including Pakistanis, Sudanese, and Jordanians, are in similar predicaments. In the first seven months of this year, 17 Ethiopians have been executed, the highest number among non-Saudis, with five of those executions occurring on a single Monday.

Amnesty International research indicates that while only two Ethiopians were executed two years ago, 35 were put to death in 2025. The exact reason for this increase is unclear but may be linked to a greater exodus from Ethiopia's northern Tigray region, which experienced a brutal two-year civil war ending in late 2022. Dana Ahmed, an Amnesty International researcher, also suggested a connection to "Saudi Arabia's expanding use of the death penalty for drug-related offences in recent years."

Habtom, like most of the individuals the BBC interviewed, is from Tigray and was convicted of smuggling hashish. In Saudi Arabia, judges have the discretion to impose a death sentence for such offenses. However, human rights organizations, including Reprieve, Human Rights Watch (HRW), and Amnesty International, contend that due process is rarely followed in these cases. Defendants often lack access to lawyers or court documents, and translation services, when provided, can be inadequate, according to Amnesty's Ahmed. While a theoretical right to appeal exists, without a lawyer, appeals cannot be submitted, leading to automatic upholding of sentences. Ahmed added, "There is a near-total lack of transparency throughout the entire judicial process, from sentencing to Supreme Court review and ratification by the King. People on death row and their families are left in the dark about their fate."

Habtom alleged he was denied the opportunity to speak with a lawyer or defend himself. He also claimed he was forced to sign an Arabic document, agreeing to his sentence, without understanding its contents. Other prisoners interviewed by the BBC recounted similar experiences with the legal system. HRW's senior adviser on refugee and migrant rights, Nadia Hardman, stated that the organization has learned of "mass sentences, mass trials that lacked any kind of due process and people detained then just waiting with no idea when the sentence would happen" from contacts close to these cases.

The Saudi authorities did not respond to the BBC's request for comment regarding allegations of an unfair legal process. However, every execution is accompanied by a statement from the official press agency, outlining a clear process: investigation, court case, appeal, Supreme Court ruling, and royal decree. These statements assert that sentences reflect a commitment to protect citizens "from the scourge of drugs" and their potential harm.

Habtom revealed that while he maintains occasional contact with his family via the prison cell phone, he has not told them he is on death row. "I would rather they be told after I die than now," he said. His dreams of finishing high school, graduating college, and supporting his parents were shattered by the Tigray war, prompting him to emigrate. After a perilous journey to Saudi Arabia in 2021, Habtom found low-paid work as a goatherder. His employers later offered him and others a chance to earn more money by delivering a package. They were apprehended by police and found with khat, a natural stimulant common in the Horn of Africa. While official Saudi statements refer to hashish smuggling, the prisoners the BBC spoke to mentioned khat. "I did not know what we were carrying. But later I was told it was khat. I don't even know what khat is," Habtom admitted, acknowledging he was enticed by the money. He recognized he had "made a mistake without knowing it" and hoped his sentence could be commuted to prison time.

Three of his fellow Ethiopian detainees were executed in April, and another nine in June. The April executions sparked outrage from human rights groups and prominent Ethiopian figures, including the head of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, Patriarch Abune Mathias. He urged the government to negotiate with Saudi authorities, referring to the inmates as "voiceless children" living "under the shadow of death."

In its April report, HRW called on Saudi authorities to immediately halt executions of Ethiopian migrants and ensure all cases comply with international law. It also urged Ethiopia's foreign ministry to intervene urgently and provide consular support. The safety of Ethiopians in Saudi Arabia was discussed in May during a meeting in Addis Ababa between Ethiopian Foreign Minister Gedion Timothewos and Saudi Deputy Foreign Minister Waleed Al-Khuraiji. This was followed by a June visit to the prison by Ethiopia's Ambassador Tafa Tulu Dadi, though prisoners told the BBC they had insufficient time to explain their situation. This visit appeared to have limited impact, as more Ethiopians were executed the following week. The African Union's human rights commission has also pressed Ethiopia to safeguard the lives of its citizens facing execution in Saudi Arabia.

The BBC has sought comment from Ethiopian officials in Saudi Arabia and the government in Addis Ababa but has not received a response. Without specifically mentioning the death penalty, Ethiopia's foreign ministry issued a statement on July 13, confirming regular contact with Saudi authorities and "pursuing appropriate remedies for Ethiopian citizens facing difficult circumstances." It added that "to date" nearly 2,000 Ethiopians had "benefited from royal amnesties," without specifying the crimes or sentences.

As diplomatic efforts unfold, the prisoners described harsh conditions in overcrowded facilities. Desta, in another part of the prison, reported 200 men crammed into a cell designed for 90, with 45 bunk beds. During the day, prisoners sat on the floor in stifling heat, while at night, they used rubbish bags as bedding. "The stress of facing execution, combined with the overcrowded conditions, exposes us to illness and anxiety," Desta said. He described how the cell door was opened only once daily for a guard to deliver food, wearing a mask. "It is not possible to ask them any questions or speak to them. Even if you ask, there is severe beating."

Desta was arrested over three years ago while attempting to cross the border from Yemen and accused of drug smuggling. "We were four Ethiopians, and there was one Yemeni with us. He told us he could help us cross the border safely because he knew the safest route. In return, he asked us to carry packages containing khat and even promised to pay us some money." He continued, "Unfortunately, shortly after we crossed, we were captured by police officers. They opened fire on us, and the Yemeni man ran away, but we couldn't. We were shocked and had no idea where to go."

Like all those interviewed, Desta never expected a death sentence, believing he would return home after serving prison time. Instead, he alleged he was also forced to sign an Arabic document listing charges carrying capital punishment. In court, he claimed he was denied the chance to challenge the charges and had no legal representation. "When you appear before the judge on the first day, he asks: 'Do you accept the charges?' On the second appearance, he sentences you to death," Desta recounted. A brick-maker who left Tigray during the war to support his family, Desta now fears for his life again. He, Habtom, and dozens of others on death row are pleading for external assistance. "We are living in deep fear and cannot even eat the food we are given," Habtom said.