On August 4, 2020, at exactly 6:07pm, the history of Beirut was brutally split into two eras. A huge explosion, caused by the ignition of 2,750 tonnes of improperly stored ammonium nitrate, ripped through the Lebanese capital.
The blast, widely considered one of the largest non-nuclear explosions in modern history , killed at least 218 people, wounded thousands, and decimated entire neighbourhoods.
Six years later, the tragedy remains an open wound, with grieving families waging a relentless legal battle against a deeply entrenched political establishment to uncover the truth.
Minutes before the detonation, the Beirut Fire Brigade was dispatched to extinguish a blaze at the port’s Hangar 12. Among the crew were Sahar Fares, a nurse who had become the brigade’s first female operational member, and firefighter Joe Noun.
Both rushed towards the fire, completely unaware that it would be their final mission. Six years on, their red helmets still hang at the fire station, symbolising a duty that cost them their lives.
Yet, out of this immense tragedy, a resilient bond was forged. Brought together by shared pain and protests demanding accountability, William Noun, Joe’s brother, and Maria Fares, Sahar’s sister, married three years after the blast.
Choosing to plant new roots in a scarred city, they recently welcomed two children, naming them Joe and Sahar.
William told Al Jazeera that while the children brought long-absent laughter back to their home, they are not replacements for the fallen. “They gave the family new hope, but they cannot take the place of Joe and Sahar, because every person has their own irreplaceable presence,” he said.
The catastrophe did not spare the city’s youngest residents. Three-year-old Alexandra Naggear was standing in her family’s home in the Mar Mikhael neighbourhood when the shockwave obliterated the area. Amid the shattered glass and rubble, her father, Paul Naggear, desperately carried his severely wounded daughter in his arms.
The vibrant toddler succumbed to her injuries days later. The harrowing image of Alexandra in her father’s arms became a global symbol of a stolen childhood.
For the Naggear family and hundreds of others, the memory of that day spurs an unwavering demand to know exactly who abandoned the explosive materials at the port.
The pursuit of accountability has been systematically obstructed by political interference. Preliminary investigations revealed that the ammonium nitrate arrived on a Moldovan-flagged ship in 2013, and that numerous top officials knew of the danger but failed to act.
Experts note that this negligence stems from a culture of impunity dating back to the end of Lebanon’s civil war in 1990, when fighter group leaders transitioned into politics and shielded themselves from prosecution.
The initial lead investigator, Judge Fadi Sawan, was sidelined after summoning notable politicians for questioning. His successor, Judge Tarek Bitar, faced similar hurdles when senior political figures refused to be interrogated, citing parliamentary immunity.
The judicial paralysis peaked when the former Court of Cassation public prosecutor, Ghassan Oueidat, controversially ordered the entire investigation halted.
Despite these monumental obstacles, recent developments offer a glimmer of hope. Following the election of a new government in 2025, acting public prosecutor Jamal Hajjar reversed Oueidat’s decisions and permitted Judge Bitar to resume his work.
According to Paul Naggear, the judicial file has now entered a decisive phase. He told Al Jazeera that Judge Bitar finalised the indictment decision and officially sealed the case file this past March, referring it to the Court of Cassation.
While this critical review stage has no strict legal timeframe and could stretch for months, families insist they have no patience left for administrative delays.
They are demanding an immediate conclusion to this review so that formal trials can commence, proving that six years later, Beirut refuses to abandon its right to justice.
