One of history's biggest non-nuclear explosions rocked Beirut on August 4, 2020, destroying swathes of the Lebanese capital, killing more than 220 people and injuring at least 6,500.
Three years on, the probe into the traumatic disaster caused by a huge pile of poorly-stored fertiliser remains bogged down in legal and political wrangling, to the dismay of victims' families.
- The mega-blast -
The massive explosion, heard as far away as Cyprus, destroys much of Beirut port and entire districts of the city in scenes that shock the country and the world.
The blast leaves a 43-metre (141 foot) deep crater and registers as the equivalent of a magnitude 3.3 earthquake.
The disaster spreads fear and chaos, with mountains of broken glass littering roads and bloodied survivors flooding overwhelmed hospitals.
The blast was caused by a fire in a warehouse where a vast stockpile of the industrial chemical ammonium nitrate had been haphazardly stored for years.
The tragedy strikes amid a deep economic crisis, almost a year after mass demonstrations erupted against a ruling class deemed inept and corrupt as living conditions worsen.
On August 10, Prime Minister Hassan Diab resigns under a barrage of pressure over the explosion.
- Probe thwarted -
In December 2020, the lead investigator examining the blast, Fadi Sawan, charges Diab and three ex-ministers with negligence.
Two of them file a complaint, the probe is suspended, and Sawan is removed from his post by court order.
In July 2021, the new investigating magistrate, Tarek Bitar, moves to interrogate four former ministers but parliament stalls on lifting their immunity.
He is forced to suspend the probe following a series of court challenges.
- Gunbattle -
In October 2021, the powerful Shiite movement Hezbollah and its ally Amal call for demonstrations to demand Bitar's dismissal.
Seven people are killed in gun battles during the rally.
At the end of 2021, Bitar resumes his investigation but less than two weeks later is forced to suspend work for a fourth time following more legal challenges.
- Silos collapse -
On August 4, 2022, several grain silos damaged in the explosion collapse in a cloud of dust, a traumatic reminder of the disaster that struck exactly two years before.
Days earlier, other parts of the silos crumbled after a fire broke out when remaining grain stocks fermented and ignited in the summer heat.
- Judicial showdown -
In January 2023, 13 months after his probe is suspended, Bitar resumes work and charges Prosecutor General Ghassan Oueidat and seven others with probable intent to murder, arson and other crimes.
Oueidat in turn charges Bitar with insubordination and "usurping power" but the investigator refuses to step down.
Oueidat also orders the release "of all those detained" over the port blast, leaving the investigation stalled and nobody yet held to account.
Victims' families and rights groups urge the United Nations to create an independent fact-finding mission.
Disabled survivors long for support, justice
Dany Salameh was already ill but a blast that devastated Beirut's port three years ago aggravated his condition, leaving him dependent on a walker and feeling abandoned by authorities.
People hurt or disabled by the catastrophic explosion told AFP that Lebanon, bankrupt and politically paralysed, has failed to deliver adequate medical care, financial support or justice.
"The state forgot about us," said the soft-spoken Salameh from his apartment in a district close to the port, much of which was destroyed along with entire districts of Beirut in one of history's biggest non-nuclear explosions.
"I lost my car, my home, my job, my mobility... Yet no one looked after us," he added.
The blast on August 4, 2020 killed more than 220 people and injured at least 6,500.
Salameh was at his family home in a neighbourhood adjacent to the port when the blast threw him from one side of their rooftop terrace to the other.
Formerly a sound engineer, he had been diagnosed in 2015 with multiple sclerosis -- a lifelong condition in which a person's central nervous system is attacked by the body's own immune system.
While Salameh escaped bad physical injury in the explosion, the shock had a devastating effect on his illness. He soon found himself struggling to walk.
Vital medicine for his disease costs $140 a month, twice-yearly injections cost $1,000, and he said he needs an operation that costs $10,000.
But Salameh is unable to afford health care as he survives on family support and limited work opportunities.
His head was bandaged after a fall last month requiring stitches, and he said he had gone for months without his regular medication.
- 'My life has ended' -
The blast came during an economic collapse that has crippled Lebanon's public sector and pushed most of the population into poverty.
Amanda Cherri, a former make-up artist, said injuries and constant pain forced her to give up her career.
"My life has ended. Someone stole it in only five minutes," said Cherri, 40, from the building overlooking the port where she used to work.
At the moment of the explosion, she was near floor-to-ceiling mirrors and two huge vases that all smashed to smithereens.
The shards pierced her face and body, leaving her blind in one eye and with one hand paralysed.
Authorities said the blast was triggered by a fire in a warehouse where a stockpile of ammonium nitrate fertiliser had been haphazardly stored for years.
"People who have become disabled have a right to lifelong support," said Sylvana Lakkis, who heads the Lebanese Union for People with Physical Disabilities.
Yet "to this day, many need treatment they cannot afford," she added.
Authorities have failed to keep track of the number of people left disabled by the blast, Lakkis said, but her organisation estimates that up to 1,000 people sustained temporary or permanent impairments.
At least four people who were disabled have died in the past year because they could not afford treatment, or received improper medical care, Lakkis told AFP.
"The explosion did not kill them. Their country did," she said.
- 'No hope' -
Mikhail Younan, 52, needs a prosthetic knee but he cannot even afford a doctor's appointment.
He delivers gas tanks to people's homes, in a country where there is no mains gas for cooking or heating and state power cuts last most of the day.
His knee was injured in the blast and his other leg now gives him trouble too. He struggles to carry the heavy gas tanks up and down flights of stairs.
Younan said he has lost customers and earns just a fraction of what he used to.
"If the Lebanese state had helped me... I would have been able to live a somewhat normal life," said Younan, who has a teenage daughter.
Instead, "pain has become my daily companion," and he said he has "been living on painkillers and anti-inflammatories that have given me kidney problems."
Lack of accountability has long been a hallmark of the Lebanese justice system, which is highly politicised in a country built on sectarian power-sharing.
Political and legal challenges have beleaguered the local probe into the blast, with high-level officials filing lawsuits against the investigating judge who charged them.
No one has yet been held responsible and the investigation is at a standstill.
Younan said he wants his daughter to leave Lebanon as soon as she finishes school.
"I have no hope," he said.
"Every time the wheel of justice turns, someone tries to break it."