The Al-Sanawbar Massacre in Jableh – Four Martyrs from the Mansour Family

I am from Al-Sanawbar (Sanawbar Jableh in the city of Latakia)
My father, the martyr Ali Sharif Mansour, 57 years old
My brother, the martyr Ammar Ali Mansour, 26 years old
My uncle, the martyr Iyad Sharif Mansour, 49 years old
My cousin, the martyr Ahmad Iyad Mansour, 15 years old
We were all sitting together with my uncle's family in my grandfather's house, all of us in one room, praying and waiting for relief. Many people contacted us and told us to have the young men escape, saying they were killing everyone they saw. My father and uncle refused. They said: we are civilians, we did nothing, and only what God has written for us will happen.

PM on Friday 7/3/2025
We heard gunfire. About seven of them entered, shooting at the door lock.
One of them saw us all sitting in a room and told the others outside: “Here are the pigs hiding in here.”
Right away, my dad and uncle stood up, and the one who entered said: “All of you, get outside.”
They made us all kneel on the ground and asked us who we were.
There was a young man visiting us who said: “We’re Muslims.”
The one who was asking—something happened to him—he suddenly started shooting right and left.
The others with him didn’t stop firing for even a second.
He asked again, and when they said we were Alawites, they took the young men aside—even Ahmad, who’s only 15 years old. He was told: “You, come here, where are you hiding?”
They didn’t ask for IDs, and they didn’t search the

They took us inside—me, my uncle’s wife, my mom, my female cousin, and her little brother who is 10 years old—and one of them followed us in and took everything we had, including our phones.
My mom started telling him: “Interrogate them, I swear they’re all civilians and haven’t done anything.”
They locked the door on us and told us: “Don’t anyone dare follow us, we’ll bring them back if they haven’t done anything.”
We stayed a whole day waiting for them to come back, but no one did, and we were all alone.
No faction came to us. They had black flags on their shoulders and some were wearing black uniforms, all of them were Syrians.
They were even fighting among themselves about whether to kill the little boy or not.
They were all swearing and saying filthy words, and my mom kept asking them about my family—one would say: “I killed them,” and another would say: “We’ll bring them back soon

We stayed like that until the next morning, when our neighbor came and told us: “There are people up on the road, go see if it's them.”
We went out and saw them, soaked in their own blood.
We saw all of them, lying next to each other.
We saw my brother’s leg—completely torn open from the back.
It took us four days before we were able to bury them.
Thank God there is an afterlife, and thank God there is a Day of Judgment.
May God have mercy on all the martyrs and give strength to their families’ hearts

The story was told by the daughter of martyr Ali Mansour.