Life Inside Evin Prison
Lindsay Foreman maintains her mental well-being by reading, walking laps in the prison yard, and practicing yoga when possible. Exercise has always been her "salvation," but after 16 months in an Iranian jail, she acknowledges the difficulty of her situation.
"I'm dealing with the realisation that we're likely to be here for a long time,"
she says during a phone conversation from Iran's notorious Evin prison.
Lindsay, 53, a life coach, and her husband Craig, 52, were arrested in January 2025 on suspicion of espionage while on a round-the-world motorcycle trip, charges they firmly deny.
'We're wasting our lives in here'
Having endured the recent war in Iran, the couple from East Sussex now confront the reality of a 10-year prison sentence imposed in February.
"I just feel that we're wasting our lives in here and rotting away,"
Craig states.
"We are innocent people. We have committed no offence."
He appeals to the government:
"Just take action. Speak out. Get us out. It seems to me we're sitting here like sitting ducks."
This is the first time the couple have spoken to the media together, using separate phones, since their arrest. They are held in separate cells within the same prison. After months without contact, their son Joe Bennett now receives regular phone calls from both parents.
These calls are routed through payphones in Evin prison via the Foreign Office, which has condemned their detention as "appalling" and "unjustifiable."
Communication is challenging; calls frequently drop and are monitored. Every few minutes, a Farsi recording interrupts, stating: "This call is from Evin prison and the caller is a prisoner."
"It's very frustrating, but these phone calls are a lifeline for them and for us,"
Joe says, granting permission for his parents to speak during a call.
The couple describe prison life as having returned to a monotonous routine following the intense fear experienced during the Israel-US war with Iran. A fragile ceasefire currently holds.
Lindsay is reading The Road Less Travelled by Scott Peck, a book about personal growth amid adversity, and worries about exhausting the prison library's resources.
Consular visits have ceased since the British embassy temporarily closed at the war's onset and remains closed.
Lindsay remains sensitive to sudden noises after recent bombings near the prison.
"I was on the phone to Joe when there was one that came so close that the windows popped out,"she recounts.
Craig is housed with other foreign inmates—an Ecuadorian, a German, and a Romanian—and experiences some camaraderie, while Lindsay is more isolated, with no English speakers in her cell, where she sleeps on a metal bunk.
Days of dark despair
Despite holding a doctorate in positive psychology, which provides coping tools, Lindsay experiences moments of deep despair.
"There are people who have been here for years, and it's just so unfair."
Craig, listening on speakerphone from another of Joe's phones, quickly offers comfort.
"We can do this,"he says.
"We will do this. We'll get through it together and, sometime, I hope soon, we will be on the other side of these walls. So stay strong, my love."
The couple were on a motorcycle journey from Europe to Australia when they entered Iran from Armenia, intending only a brief stay. Lindsay was conducting informal interviews about what constitutes a "good life," intending to present her findings at a Brisbane conference.
It appears this line of questioning attracted the attention of Iranian authorities.
They had been aware of Foreign Office advice against travel to Iran.
"Craig and I had assessed the risk and did not think that innocent tourists would end up in prison for this long with no evidence,"Lindsay says.
"I take responsibility for the choice I made to come here, and I have to live with the consequences."
She notes that understanding the consequences of imprisonment in Iran is difficult without direct experience.
'There will be an end for us at some point'
Lindsay spent 57 days in solitary confinement in Kerman city. Craig endured blindfolded interrogation during his solitary confinement, which he describes as "horrific."
They were transferred to Tehran in July and told they would be released, only to be placed in Evin prison, known for holding Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe during her six-year incarceration.
Conditions in Evin are better than solitary confinement but remain harsh.
"It's not very hygienic. There's no health care, no dental care,"Craig explains.
"And there are lots of fights between inmates. You have to try and stay clear because there are homemade weapons and things."
Both acknowledge that many Iranians endure far worse conditions.
One of Lindsay's cellmates was sentenced to death for involvement in nationwide protests in January, which the regime suppressed violently, killing thousands.
"It's frightening,"Lindsay says.
"When I look at my position, I think 'well, thank God I didn't grow up here'. There will be an end for us at some point. But for some of these people, there won't be an end."
Since Craig's transfer to Evin last summer, four of his cellmates have been executed.
"I know they've been executed because they publicise it on TV the next day,"he states.
"We're in a horrible position right now, but we have met some fabulous people along the way,"Craig adds.
"We have seen both sides of this country firsthand."
