President Raisi's helicopter has crashed

The Eichmann of Iran is missing. So is his foreign minister.

A helicopter carrying the president of Iran, the monster Ebrahim Raisi, has suffered a “rough landing,” according to Iran’s state-run media, which urged the public to pray for his safety. Foreign Minister Hossein Amir-Abdollahian and other officials were on board as well. So far, neither they nor the copter have been found.

The helicopter was traveling in East Azerbaijan province, which is particularly rugged and mountainous, and it is shrouded in dense fog, which is thwarting rescue efforts. “The weather is extremely foggy, which is making the rescue efforts very difficult. The exact location of the President's helicopter is still unknown,” an IRIB News correspondent reported from the area where it is believed that the incident has occurred. “New rescue teams and some mountaineers have joined the search and rescue operation.” The reporter added, “The weather is bitterly cold; due to the poor weather conditions, air search and helicopter flights are not possible, and the rescue is being carried out on the ground.”

The search and rescue teams have reached the location where it was suspected that the President's helicopter had been forced to make emergency landing, but heavy rain and mud are making it difficult for vehicles and personnel to traverse, the reporter said. The search area is in the highlands and it is not possible to access the location by vehicle, so the rescue workers are forced to move on foot, slowing the pace of the rescue and relief operation, he added.

The incident happened on Sunday in Dizmar forest between the cities of Varzaqan and Jolfa in East Azerbaijan province as the president was returning from an event to inaugurate a dam with Azerbaijan’s President Ilham Aliyev.

I hope he is dead.

The Ayatollah of Massacre, as he is—or was—known, is one of the cruelest murderers of our era. David Patrikarikos wrote a superb article about him in 2021: A Malign Embrace: Ebrahim Raisi and Iran. The life of the Islamic Republic’s most radical president, he wrote, mirrored the story of the state itself:

The pregnant woman screams with despair and rage. She’s exhausted, helpless. Her swollen belly—she’s almost nine months along now—writhes in agony. Her Iranian jail cell is tiny—just three by four yards—with a bed in the middle, next to which a large pool of blood is congealing on the floor. The air is dank, thick with the stench of sweat and sadism. A guard named Muhammad whips her hands with electricity cables; another, named Raheem, who is grotesquely fat, stands over her grinning as he slaps her face. Lash, slap, lash, slap. She screams. They smile.