Yeshiva Bochur Held in Military Prison Recounts Ordeal: “They Wouldn’t Let Me Put On Tefillin”
Avrumi Malul, a yeshiva bochur who was arrested for refusing to enlist in the IDF, described the harrowing conditions he faced during his detention in Military Prison 10.
Speaking with Yankele Friedman on Kol Chai Radio, Malul said the experience was nothing short of “gehennom,” beginning from the moment he was taken from his home community and transported to jail.
He was arrested on Sunday morning at 10 a.m. and released the following Friday just before Shabbos. Although he had been sentenced to seven days, he ultimately served six. “Hashem had mercy on me,” he said. “They removed the Shabbos from my sentence, so I was released Friday.”
He recalled that during the drive to the prison, he caught sight of his own neighborhood through the transport windows and felt a stab of deep pain. Upon arrival, he underwent a full security check, was given prison uniforms—“extremely unpleasant,” he noted—and was placed in handcuffs.
Malul explained that his difficult conditions stemmed from what he thought was a harmless answer during his intake interview. Prison staff asked routine questions, including whether he intended to escape. Thinking he might receive more lenient treatment if he appeared weak or pitiable, he tried to portray himself accordingly. The strategy backfired. “It turned against me,” he said. He was placed in the separation wing, which he described as the harshest part of Prison 10. The wing had no phone, no books, no amenities, nothing at all. He was housed with only two other inmates who were not yeshiva students, leaving him with no shared background and no sense of companionship. The isolation and environment were “unbearable,” he said.
Inside the prison, Malul found himself fighting simply to observe basic religious practices. He asked to daven with a minyan at five o’clock in the morning, but was refused. In the separation wing, he said, there is no possibility of gathering a minyan at all. The distress grew more severe when he was prevented from putting on Rabbeinu Tam tefillin, which he has worn faithfully for years as part of his family’s tradition. Desperate, he even asked the wing commander to allow him to do guard duty—solely to gain access to his tefillin. “I begged her,” he said. “I asked, please let me do guard duty so I can put them on.” She refused, explaining that he was not authorized because he had already met with an attorney that day. “I went to sleep that night… and I hadn’t put them on,” he recalled painfully. “After years and years of never missing it.” Only once did he manage to put on Rabbeinu Tam tefillin, borrowing a pair from an inmate in a nearby wing.
Conditions in the prison, he said, were extremely harsh. His daily time outdoors was limited to twenty minutes, and even then he was required to walk with his hands behind his back, unable to move freely without express permission from a commander. The food was meager, consisting mainly of dry bread and a piece of cheese. Although there were meals labeled “mehadrin,” he described their appearance as “in the worst condition imaginable,” adding that even the regular IDF food lacked any visible kosher certification and was hardly edible. Eventually, Malul was transferred to a regular platoon, which he described as “paradise compared to the separation wing,” though he was still required to perform guard duty like other inmates.
Malul expressed deep anguish for the yeshiva boys who remain in the prison, trying to maintain their religious commitments under impossible circumstances. He said the inmates urgently need spiritual support and called for a rabbi to visit daily to provide even a short shiur. Upon his release, he felt a mixture of relief and sorrow. “My eyes cried bitterly, but my heart was happy,” he said of his first steps outside the prison. “I’m glad I was released, but it hurts me for all the yeshiva boys who are still there. Spending Shabbos in that place is gehennom.”
{Matzav.com}
