That night, Damascus seemed to hold its breath. The city was cloaked in darkness, the Presidential Palace unlit, with only faint, intermittent radio signals—picked up by security devices—flickering like the dying gasps of a crumbling regime. An aging system, unresponsive to urgent calls, even from senior advisor Bouthaina Shaaban, who was rumored to have been tasked with preparing a televised address that never materialized.
At 8 p.m., from her residence in the heavily guarded Al-Malki district, Shaaban tried repeatedly to reach President Bashar al-Assad through a direct line to clarify his position. She failed to connect, even through his aides. Hours later, she packed her bags and fled Damascus, the city she had long spoken for.
A House Divided
Inside the Presidential Palace, the rift was not merely a difference of opinion but an existential divide between two brothers embodying the regime’s dual faces. While Bashar al-Assad, the soon-to-be-ousted president, prepared for a quiet withdrawal coordinated with Moscow, his brother Maher, de facto commander of the Fourth Division, rejected what he called a “historic surrender” and insisted on fighting to the end.
Sources close to Damascus’s security apparatus reveal that Bashar was fully aware of arrangements to hand over the capital, with negotiations with Russia predating the “liberation of Damascus” by weeks. These sources indicate that Assad agreed to all terms of a deal ensuring safe passage for him and key officers through Russian channels, in exchange for Moscow’s commitment to prevent security chaos or swift trials if the regime collapsed.
In those final hours, Brigadier General Suheil al-Hassan, head of the Russian-aligned Tiger Forces, ordered his units to withdraw from southern and southwestern positions without consulting the army’s General Command—a move described as a “calculated repositioning” beyond Maher’s knowledge. Tensions between the brothers peaked the evening before the capital’s fall. As Bashar coordinated exit details with Russian liaison officers, Maher demanded a “general mobilization” and a televised call for resistance to the last breath. The dispute escalated into a sharp verbal confrontation.
Maher stormed out of the room in fury; Bashar left in heavy silence, aware the game was over. A Russian plane was being prepared at Hmeimim Airbase under direct Russian oversight to evacuate him, his family, and select advisors. In the palace’s long corridors, Maher’s voice echoed, demanding fortified defenses around Kafar Souseh and a stand in the city center. But time had run out. There was no coup, as some later leaks suggested, but a silent deal between Moscow and the palace that ended two decades of rule with a single decision—from within.
Escape from the Airport
According to the official account, three armored SUVs left the Presidential Palace that night, heading toward the airport road, escorted by a small Russian unit. Security sources confirm a senior Russian official arrived at the palace to personally accompany the ousted president in a tightly controlled convoy under unprecedented secrecy.
Yet the question lingers: Where did Bashar go? Accounts of his exit diverge. Sources close to the Republican Guard claim he departed from Damascus International Airport on a private Russian plane. A second account, obtained by Al-Modon from a former security official, suggests he traveled by land to Latakia in a Russian armored vehicle, accompanied by a special forces escort, his children, and a handful of aides.
Elsewhere in the capital, chaos intensified within security compounds. Senior officers received contradictory orders: the head of Air Force Intelligence was told “the leadership is relocating to an alternate site,” while the defense minister received a message insisting “the president remains in the palace.” The interior minister vanished after a late-night city tour, leaving his ministry leaderless without explanation.
Meanwhile, two military aircraft were readied at Hmeimim Airbase, transporting senior officers and their families to undisclosed destinations. Field sources report a mass exodus beginning between 1 and 2 a.m., described by one officer as “a silent unraveling of a regime collapsing from within.” Dozens of luxury cars fled the capital, laden with officers’ families and valuables, while others sought refuge or safe passage at the Russian embassy in Al-Mazzeh. Russian forces opened their gates to senior security and military officials, allowing passage to Hmeimim, where hundreds gathered in a waiting hall for Russian transport planes to ferry them abroad.
By dawn, Damascus awoke to an unprecedented political and security vacuum, as the last Russian plane took off from the coast, carrying the ashes of two decades of power—a regime that departed as it began: in the shadows.
Maher in the Dark
Major General Maher al-Assad spent his final hours in Damascus orchestrating his own exit, independent of the collapsing official channels. In a fortified villa, he gathered loyal businessmen and influential economic figures, urging them to join his “organized withdrawal” to Homs.
Field sources familiar with those hours say Maher planned to regroup Fourth Division forces in western Homs, hoping to form an “alternate defense line” as a bargaining chip or foundation for redeployment. But the battlefield reality was harsher than he envisioned. Roads to the north were cut off by advancing opposition factions, and units he believed remained under his command had either withdrawn or abandoned their posts without coordination.
As dawn neared, communications with the General Command ceased, and reports confirmed the Republican Guard had been ordered not to engage. Maher realized the battle was lost, and the capital had slipped from his and his brother’s grasp. In his final moments, he boarded a small military helicopter headed east—likely to a Syrian desert region—leaving behind a leaderless army and paralyzed security apparatus issuing contradictory orders. As the first light broke, Damascus breathed fear and emptiness, reverberating with news of the departure of the man long known as the regime’s “iron fist.”
Collapse of the Security Apparatus
In the hours that followed, news spread through Damascus like wildfire. “The president is gone,” a staffer said over the phone before disappearing himself. Inside security complexes, panic and chaos reigned. The head of General Intelligence ordered safes opened and funds withdrawn, while others began burning files and computers to destroy the state’s remaining secrets. Some officers sought protection at the Russian embassy in Al-Mazzeh, while others surrendered to opposition factions reaching the city’s outskirts.
The scene resembled the collapse of an entire state, not just a political regime. No significant military resistance was recorded, no heavy shells fired, no orders issued to hold ground. Even those who insisted on fighting found themselves without leadership, air support, or a clear objective.
Ironically, Russian forces—long the regime’s staunchest military ally—became mediators that night, bridging a crumbling authority and advancing rebels. It was less a battle of decisive victory than a carefully managed handover, executed in near silence.
The Russian–Rebel Accord
Days later, details emerged from behind the scenes. The Russians had been in direct contact with opposition field commanders hours before the capital’s fall, with an unpublicized agreement reached in Hama as rebel lines neared the Damascus highway. The deal was not a surrender but a field understanding to avoid destroying the city. According to those later privy to its terms, it allowed rebels to enter Damascus without major battles in exchange for safe passage for Assad and his entourage through Russian channels.
President Ahmad al-Sharaa later confirmed in a televised interview that “negotiations occurred between the Russians and the rebels before the regime’s fall,” with the primary goal of “avoiding a bloody urban battle.” His statement transformed the notion of a “tactical withdrawal” into documented political reality: the regime was not only defeated militarily but handed over through a prearranged deal, ending the war with minimal losses for both sides—yet opening a Pandora’s box of questions about the cost and who paid it.
After the Departure
In Moscow, Bashar al-Assad vanished from public view. Days after the capital’s fall, Russian authorities granted him humanitarian asylum and arranged a temporary residence under tight security, far from media scrutiny. Maher settled in a quiet Moscow suburb with a group of former officers. Neither issued statements, but their silence spoke volumes about the new chapter.
In Damascus, people ventured out at dawn to survey the city. No battles, no artillery, no flags raised over government buildings—just a vast emptiness. Abandoned checkpoints bore traces of a hurried retreat, and in the old quarters, whispers and rumors swirled like belated attempts to comprehend the incomprehensible. Some said the Russians handed the Presidential Palace keys to the new leadership; others claimed loyalist officers hid in Ghouta’s orchards. The truth was simpler: a regime that ruled for half a century did not fall by gunfire but collapsed from within.
The night of the fall was a moment of deferred reckonings—between brothers, agencies, and backers. Each thought they were saving themselves, only to lose everything. The Russians emerged with minimal losses, the rebels entered a city without war, and the family that built a wall of fear over five decades departed under the protection of those who enabled its dominance.
As the world fixated on the “final day,” Syrians lived its starkest outcome: fear ended as it began—in heavy silence, under a Damascus sky that saw everything and said nothing.
This article was translated and edited by The Syrian Observer. The Syrian Observer has not verified the content of this story. Responsibility for the information and views set out in this article lies entirely with the author.
