NEW YORK - The three Ali brothers - Saamir, Jamal and Fadi - were among those Iraqis elated when U.S.-led forces toppled Saddam Hussein. They eagerly offered their services as translators and suppliers for the troops.
Four years later, Jamal, the eldest, is dead - shot in front of his family at a Baghdad restaurant while resisting abduction. Fadi, the youngest, fled after a near-miss assassination attempt. He spent the past two years uprooted in Jordan, seeking a place of permanent refuge.
And Saamir, granted asylum in the United States, lives in New York City, struggling to find work, lucky to be alive. He still suffers the aftereffects of an insurgent's bullet that slammed through his right cheek in 2004, tore a hole in the roof of his mouth and exited under his left eye.
"I am glad I helped the Americans - but I am sad for what happened to my family," he says softly.
Like so many Iraqi families, the Alis have been scarred and splintered by the war. And even with the high price they have paid for their loyalty to America, the prospect of full-scale reunion here seems faint.
The brothers' mother and Jamal's 17-year-old son have taken refuge in Turkey, trying in vain to get permission to move to the United States. Fadi, who also wanted to come to America, has just been accepted as a refugee by Australia.
"I feel awful about my mother," said Hadeel Ali, Saamir's older sister, who has lived in New York for eight years. "She's been through so much pain because her sons worked for the U.S. Army. What kind of harm would she do here? Why can't she come?"
More than 2 million Iraqis have left their chaotic nation since 2003, flooding into Jordan, Syria, Turkey and other Middle Eastern countries. Another 2 million or so have been displaced within Iraq.
Only a tiny fraction have been granted refuge outside the Middle East, including fewer than 800 to the United States. U.S. officials have promised to take nearly 7,000 more starting later this year, but critics say America has an obligation to accept far larger numbers.
"Seven thousand is drop in the ocean - it's unacceptable," said Michael Kocher of the International Rescue Committee. "There are so many people who cannot go back to Iraq, because they'd be killed or they have nothing to go back to."
A one-inch difference in the bullet's path, and Saamir Ali would have been among the dead. Instead, some of the U.S. officers he worked for interceded on his behalf and he became one of the relative handful of Iraqis allowed into in America during the war.
Since arriving, however, he has mostly been unemployed. There was one three-month stint in a publishing unit at the United Nations, but otherwise he's had only sporadic temporary jobs. When he offered to enlist in the military, he was quickly rebuffed.
"I'd do anything - I don't care what," he said. "I just want to feed my family. It's not easy when you don't have a job."
It was natural instinct for Saamir and his brothers to embrace the conquering Americans in 2003.
Their father, Abdulmajeed Ali, was a general in the Iraqi army who was forced to retire in 1970 because he refused to join Saddam's Baath Party. The family, Shiite Muslims, suffered ongoing harassment thereafter, and said Abdulmajeed's death in 1997 followed repeated refusals by hospital authorities to provide him proper medical care.
"We had a bad regime in Iraq," Saamir said. "We were so excited when the U.S. Army came, we worked four months for free - we didn't take anything."
Eventually, all three brothers became paid contractors for U.S. forces - interpreting, supplying snack food and cigarettes, sometimes offering information on possible security threats. But not all who noticed their work were pleased.
In February 2004, on his way back to Baghdad from a dangerous stint in the city of Fallujah, Saamir was shot and the friend driving with him was killed. Rescued by a passing U.S. convoy, Saamir was in a coma for two weeks and in the hospital for two months.
Despite lingering medical problems, he returned to work with the U.S. Army. In March 2005, he was allowed to travel to the United States for medical treatment, thanks in part to glowing letters of support from U.S. officers.
"In spite of his injuries, Saamir Ali continued to loyally and bravely serve U.S. and Coalition forces in the face of great danger to himself and his family," wrote Army Maj. William Whitlow.
Shortly before Saamir flew to the United States, he and his brothers each received threatening notes, placed on the windshields of their cars.
"Never deal with the enemy and his allies," said the notes, which included blurry photographs of armed insurgents. "Our eyes are wide open, and our fingers are on the trigger."
Just weeks later, the threat was carried out. About a dozen gunmen burst into a Baghdad restaurant where Jamal was dining with his family, tried to abduct him, and - when he resisted - shot him dead in front of his wife, son and other relatives.
Fadi also was targeted, escaping injury in an attack on June 27, 2005. He fled to Jordan a few days later.
Hadeel, the sister, has lived in the United States since 1999 - successfully gaining asylum after a divorce in Turkey left her unable to take her son back to Iraq.
She works for Japan Airlines' cargo division at John F. Kennedy International Airport; much of her energy is spent supporting Saamir, 36, and trying to reunite the extended family. She recently traveled to Turkey, escorting her mother to the U.S. consulate in Istanbul in an attempt to get her a visitor's visa to America. It ended with the women in tears and no visa.
Saamir's wife and two daughters were allowed to join him last September.
They live near Hadeel in the quiet Queens neighborhood of Middle Village, in an apartment far smaller than their former Baghdad home.
The girls - aged 14 and 5 - attend public school, and are adjusting quickly to American ways. But their mother, Nada, still speaks little English.
In Iraq, Saamir produced and sold perfume, but that career seems defunct now - his wounds have left him without a sense of smell.
Nonetheless, his appearance and his ability to speak and eat are remarkably normal, considering the extent of his injuries. Much of the credit goes to Dr. Mahoj Abraham, a plastic surgeon based in Poughkeepsie, N.Y., who heard about Saamir and - at no charge - performed complex reconstructive surgery on Saamir's palate in April 2006.
Abraham listed the problems that continue to beset Saamir - blurred vision, breathing difficulties, some memory loss and dizziness - but lauded his attitude.
"He has always had a positive outlook, and has great hope for the future," the doctor said. "He truly is an inspiration."
Saamir is deeply grateful to Abraham and to Richard Chen, the immigration lawyer who helped him win asylum
"I've had so many people help me," he said. "It's a great country. All the people - most of them - are nice."
Although he is unsure when peace will return to Iraq - "after 50 years, maybe" - he still believes the United States was right to invade.
"The terrorists make that disaster. The U.S. Army - they do their best. Not everything will be 100 percent great - but they do their best."
Hadeel, like her brother, is grateful for the U.S. role in ousting Saddam, but now wishes American troops would leave Iraq.
"I feel so sorry for every American soldier who gets killed - it's just not worth it," she said. "This is going to go on forever. You don't know who you're fighting over there."
Hadeel has conflicting emotions about the legions of displaced Iraqis, and the extent of America's obligation to accommodate more of them.
"There are so many stories similar to ours - I know they can't take everyone," she said. "But people like us, they put their lives on the lines. They deserve to be here - they have no other place to go."
At one point during a lengthy interview at Hadeel's house, Saamir struggled with his English when asked whether he had any regrets now about working along with his brothers for the Americans. He turned to his sister for help.
"They believed they were helping the Iraqi people - they believed they were doing something for their country. But unfortunately - this is what we got," she said.
"We lost our country, we lost our family. If we can be together, we would appreciate it."
