*Classroom converted into torture room for prisoner confessions. The rooms were left in the condition they were found.*

On November 11th, 2025, I fulfilled my dream of visiting the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, the memorial site of the S-21 interrogation and detention center of the Khmer Rouge regime. This former high school, where my uncle Sophon Ngeth had once taught, was converted into a Khmer Rouge torture facility. I wanted to come here to witness the original prisoner photographs, to study the methods behind them, and to learn more about the prison’s history. An odd dream for most, but important to me, I came with my aunt Socheata Nguon to pay respect to my ancestors and to understand the prison’s role during the Cambodian Genocide.

*My aunt listening to the museum’s audio guide in front of one of the torture rooms. It was her first time coming to S-21.*

It was a scorching hot afternoon around 2 p.m. Though many locals avoid coming outside at this hour because of the sun, I chose this time to see how the light filtered through the windows and cells, creating shadows that echo what once was. For me, light encapsulates the souls and memories embedded into landscapes forever, especially the souls that were tormented here. I wondered what it must have felt like in the months of April and May, when the heat pressed even harder on the prisoners confined within these walls. Walking through the gates into the campus, I was overcome with grief. I felt my heart swell and my chest fill with air as I navigated the anger and sadness I felt all at once. I could feel two worlds colliding as I took in the site of barbed wire fences lining each window and fruit trees swaying in the afternoon sun. The past and the present; the darkness and the peace.

Tuol Sleng, also called Security Prison 21 or S-21, was one of the most infamous sites of the Khmer Rouge regime from 1975 to 1979. The prison was not an isolated site. It was part of the Khmer Rouge’s system of terror and control, designed to remake Cambodia into a strictly controlled agrarian society. Originally a high school, it was converted into a prison and torture facility where thousands of men, women, and children were held. Prisoners were often accused of being enemies of the state, spies, or traitors, including working for foreign governments, the previous Cambodian government, or even Vietnam.

While there, I learned that the school was originally called Tuol Svay Prey High School (“Hill of the Wild Mango Trees”). When the Khmer Rouge converted it into a prison, they renamed it Tuol Sleng, which means “Hill of the Prison” in Khmer. Evidence that the prison was previously a place for learning can be found in the courtyard’s lush trees and playground bars, and in the classroom’s desks, scribbles on the chalkboards and walls. While I paced each room, I placed my hands upon these walls and photographed some of the writing. I felt his presence in the walls and could imagine what the children sounded like as they played in the courtyard. I wondered what subject my uncle taught and what was his story before the Khmer Rouge invaded. I was told by my mother that my uncle is still alive, living in Siem Reap, but I did not reach out to him at this time as I was unsure of his whereabouts. I hope on my next trip to visit him in Siem Reap and track him down through Facebook. My grandmother, Simone Mao, was also a teacher pre-Khmer Rouge era. It is a miracle that they both survived, given that anyone perceived as an enemy, intellectuals, former government workers, teachers, monks, or even people who simply wore glasses, could be accused of plotting against the regime. Facilities like S-21 existed to extract confessions through torture, to root out so-called “traitors,” and to instill fear in the population.

Tuol Sleng was located in Phnom Penh, the capital, to centralize control and monitor potential enemies in the city. The regime converted the high school into a secret detention and torture facility that remained largely hidden while ordinary citizens were forcibly evacuated to the countryside. Though meticulously documented with photographs, confessions, and records, the facility itself remained unknown to the outside world until after the fall of the Khmer Rouge.

*The back facade of the S-21 building. You can see how centralized it was in the city when you look at the proximity of the buildings on the left. It was disturbing how no one knew about it.*

Inside, detainees endured brutal interrogation and torture. Many were beaten, starved, or electrocuted, and some were forced to witness the suffering of others. Under extreme duress, prisoners often confessed to crimes they had not committed, sometimes even absurd or impossible crimes, just to end the pain. Photographs were taken of each prisoner upon arrival, recording their faces as evidence before they were sent to their cells. Only a handful survived; the vast majority were eventually executed. Today, the museum preserves the original cells, instruments of torture, and haunting prisoner photographs, serving as a sobering reminder of the horrors endured and the lives lost.

One story that stayed with my aunt and I was that of Bophana, a young woman imprisoned at S-21. Like so many, she was accused of working for foreign powers or the old government, accusations that were entirely fabricated. Under unbearable pressure, she wrote one of the longest recorded confessions from the prison, stretching over a thousand pages, filled with forced admissions and coded messages to her husband (who she had no idea was also at the prison). Through the torture, she wrote about her life, her love, and the impossible choices she faced, hoping her words might somehow survive. Sadly, she and her husband were both executed on the same day at S-21, but her story lives on. The Bophana Center in Phnom Penh, named in her honor, preserves films, recordings, letters, and other personal histories from the Khmer Rouge era, keeping alive the stories of those who were lost and offering future generations a way to understand their lives and humanity.

*Women’s hair was cut to uniform length by Khmer Rouge.*

While there, I also discovered quiet moments of light, presence, and reflection, which I captured with my camera as I moved through the buildings, small fragments of life and memory that endure even in a place so steeped in pain.