In a haunting scene reflecting the collapse of Bashar al-Assad's regime, the once-feared enforcer Jamil Hassan vacated his opulent apartment in a hurried retreat, illustrating the disarray now gripping Syria. As his convoy, flanked by family and guards, drove away, neighbors watched, sensing the end of an era defined by intimidation and violence. "I knew the moment I saw them flee that Assad had fallen," recalled one neighbor.

Days later, an exploration of Hassan's now-deserted apartment revealed unkempt signs of the family’s hasty departure: a half-eaten carrot cake still on the table, clothes strewn across the beds, and photographs of Hassan alongside Assad, tauntingly captioned, "Our skies are for us and forbidden to others." This 72-year-old "butcher," who led the ruthless Air Force Intelligence and presided over torture-filled detention centers, is just one of many regime officials who have now abandoned their high-status residences amid the chaos.

With many of these enforcers being sought for war crimes globally, the quest for accountability intensifies. Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), a group leading the movement against the regime, has affirmed their commitment to finding these fugitives within Syria, while residents share a mix of fear and relief at the regime's downfall.

On Hassan's street, the silence is palpable. Residents reflect on the climate of terror that pervaded their lives under his watch. His notorious reputation made everyday interactions daunting, as many felt compelled to pretend to support him despite their disdain. One resident recalled, "We knew what he did to the Syrians... we can't say anything, just 'good morning sir'."

Hassan's notoriety extends beyond Syria; he is wanted by multiple nations for his methods involving the torture of civilians, including American citizens. He was even sentenced in absentia in France for war crimes related to his harsh treatments of Syrian-French nationals.

The departure of Hassan signals broader upheaval within the regime, with other high-ranking officials, such as Hussam Luka and Ali Mamlouk, also disappearing from their once-grand residences. Their abandoned homes tell stories of luxury tinged by the blood of countless victims. Furniture left behind bears witness to their hurried exodus, with former rebel fighters now occupying these spaces, repurposing them as bases and living quarters.

In the shadow of the luxurious living once enjoyed by these officials, rebels navigate through the remnants of plush carpets and chandeliers, transforming dilapidated spaces into makeshift homes. One rebel described the surreal discomfort of waking on marble floors under the remnants of opulence, stating, "We don't need any of this."

As these powerful figures seek refuge — potentially aligning with foreign powers or hiding within allied states like Lebanon — the struggle for justice remains daunting. The Syrian Center for Media and Freedom of Expression warns that finding these men will require global collaboration, underscoring the urgent need for accountability in light of their heinous acts.

Abandoning these lavish lifestyles and now ghost towns, former regime figures face a grim future. The fear that they might evade justice through political deals complicates the drive for accountability. Hassan's old neighbors hold onto hope that one day these horror figures will be forced to confront their actions within the very streets they terrorized.