The moment Ashraf Zughayer, a Hamas leader in Israeli prison, heard in October 2023 that Palestinian militants had taken hostages, he knew his life sentence for murdering six people in Tel Aviv could soon be wiped away, he said.
It took more than a year. But in late January, as part of the cease-fire and hostage release deal between Israel and Hamas, Mr. Zughayer, 46, rode through the streets of East Jerusalem on a truck festooned with green Hamas flags, surrounded by jubilant supporters.
Thirty miles away, Tova Sisso, whose mother was killed in the Tel Aviv attack, watched with horror. Her mother, Rozana, had survived the Holocaust only to be killed in a 2002 suicide bombing that Mr. Zughayer helped orchestrate.
“Seeing him being celebrated like this tears open a deep wound all over again,” Ms. Sisso said. “My joy in life was stolen from me that day.”
Since the truce began last month, Israelis and Palestinians have been gripped by images of emotional homecomings that have summoned a welter of pain, happiness, frustration and grief. The scenes cut to the heart of how many on both sides understand the cycle of violence that has haunted their families for decades.
For Israelis, watching freed hostages reunite with relatives has been a rare moment of national catharsis since the Oct. 7, 2023 attack that killed 1,200 people, saw 250 taken hostage and ignited the devastating war in Gaza. But they have also been angered and deeply dismayed by the release of Palestinian prisoners like Mr. Zughayer in exchange.
Palestinians have greeted hundreds of prisoners released by Israel. They included some detained without charges or for minor offenses, a group that Palestinians often view as effectively hostages themselves. Under the deal, Israel committed to releasing 1,000 Gazans, most of whom had been held without anything resembling a criminal trial.
But Hamas also secured the release of hundreds of prisoners like Mr. Zughayer — militants convicted of deadly attacks against Israelis. More than 200 of those freed were serving life sentences for murder and other offenses for their role in bombings, shootings and other acts of violence.
Israelis see them as murderous terrorists, noting many deliberately targeted civilians. Many Palestinians call them heroes in a struggle against Israel’s decades-long occupation.
“A nation that wants to break free must fight for it,” Mr. Zughayer said shortly after his release, sitting in his parents’ front yard. He refused to discuss whether the Oct. 7 attacks had successfully advanced the Palestinian national cause.
Palestinians are split over the 2023 attacks led by his organization. At least some say they were a devastating mistake for having prompted Israel’s sweeping military response, which has killed tens of thousands of Palestinians and destroyed much of Gaza.
“It’s good that there is a prisoner deal, but it did not require all this bloodshed and destruction,” Ahmed Yousef, a veteran Hamas member, said in a phone interview from southern Gaza. “Oct. 7, in my opinion, was a terrible error.”
In late January, Mr. Zughayer’s family held a subdued celebration at their East Jerusalem home to welcome him back, wary of Israeli restrictions on “expressions of joy” for freed militants. Israel annexed East Jerusalem after the 1967 war in a move not recognized by most of the international community.
Teenage relatives bustled around a quiet courtyard, pouring coffee and handing out sweets. Others hung on every word uttered by the skinny, black-bearded Mr. Zughayer, who appeared slightly dazed to be seeing the outside world for the first time in years. A slim green scarf emblazoned with a Hamas logo hung around his neck, until a child took it away.
“My son’s imprisonment was a badge of honor,” said Mr. Zughayer’s father, Munir, a community organizer who liaises between residents and Israeli authorities. “You could enter prison for thieving or criminality. But I’m not the father of a criminal, I’m the father of a hero.”
The 2002 bombing that Ashraf Zughayer helped carry out killed six civilians: five Israelis and a British Jew. The bomber, wearing an explosive vest, had mounted a bus in Tel Aviv and detonated his cargo as soon as the bus began to move, according to court filings.
Yoni Jesner, a 19-year-old religious student from Scotland, was one of those killed in the explosion. His family chose to donate his organs, one of which was given to a young Palestinian girl, his brother Ari said in an interview.
Mr. Zughayer was convicted of driving the bomber to his target. As a resident of Israeli-annexed East Jerusalem, he held an Israeli ID that allowed him to easily slip in and out of the West Bank. He was involved in planning another attack when he was arrested, according to Israeli court filings.
Munir Zughayer said he hoped for a normal life for his son and a peaceful resolution to the conflict — one that would allow both Israelis and Palestinians to live “in equality and with human rights.” His son said that he hoped to pursue a doctorate in political science, and was exploring options in the Israeli-occupied West Bank.
As night fell, Israeli soldiers raided the home, guns drawn and loaded, and then assaulted the elder Mr. Zughayer, as well as a disabled relative and a reporter for The New York Times.
The soldiers detained several of Ashraf Zughayer’s siblings, accusing them of waving Hamas flags and shooting in the air. The family denies the allegations, and no one was visibly armed at the event.
Nearly a month later, the Israeli police released them, but charged Mr. Zughayer and two of his relatives with riding unsecured in the back of a pickup truck on the afternoon of his release, according to a police statement. They face possible fines for the charge.
Israeli prison interrogators frequently asked Mr. Zughayer whether he felt any remorse, he said. He had once believed in the peace process, he said, but lost hope after watching reports of Palestinian civilians, including children, shot dead by Israeli soldiers with apparent impunity.
“Our goal isn’t to hurt civilians. We were forced into it,” he said, declining to extensively discuss the attack. “If the legal system here were just, I would see this whole thing differently.”
Once convicted, Mr. Zughayer was assigned to a prison wing dominated by Hamas detainees. One was Yahya Sinwar, the Hamas leader who later masterminded the 2023 attack. Mr. Sinwar taught his fellow inmates Hebrew to better understand their shared enemy, Mr. Zughayer recounted.
“I used to think that Israeli society was a monolith,” he said. Through studying the language and history of the Jewish people, he realized that Israelis were not of one mind. “Some want peace, and some do not,” he said.
During his time in prison, Mr. Zughayer learned fluent Hebrew, earning a master’s degree from an Israeli university. He also became a top member of Hamas’s prison leadership, charged with conveying demands in negotiations with their jailers.
But he said he was as shocked as his Israeli guards when Hamas fighters swarmed into Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.
That morning, Palestinian prisoners hunched over small televisions in their cells, watching in disbelief as Israeli news outlets showed Hamas gunmen driving through the Israeli city of Sderot.
Hours into the attack, the guards took away the televisions. Prisoners then huddled around a radio, where they heard that Hamas had seized Israeli hostages before it too was taken away.
After the Hamas-led attack, the guards began treating imprisoned Palestinians much more harshly, said Mr. Zughayer. At least 10 Palestinian prisoners died in Israeli jail last year, according to the Israeli prison service; autopsies showed at least some bore signs of physical trauma, according to postmortem reports.
Israeli hostages who were freed during the cease-fire also emerged gaunt, some having lost dozens of pounds during their captivity.
Since Mr. Zughayer’s release, Israel and Hamas have completed several more transfers of hostages and prisoners, each of which has elicited intense, conflicting emotions among Israelis and Palestinians.
When one of the hostages was freed, “it felt like a family member coming home,” said Mr. Jesner, despite his mixed feelings over Mr. Zughayer’s release.
Nir Zinger, whose brother was killed in the Tel Aviv bombing, vividly remembers the moment in 2002 that he picked up the phone and heard about the attack. He said he thinks about his brother, Ofer, almost every day.
Seeing Mr. Zughayer walk free was difficult, he said, but he called it worth it to save more of the living hostages.
“We know the meaning of grief,” Mr. Zinger said. “We don’t want other families to have to endure that pain.”
