Why many of Iraq's elite don't flee

Masked gunmen in security-force uniforms dragged one of Saddam Hussein's top defense lawyers from his Baghdad home and killed him Wednesday. Khamees al-Ubaidi is now the third defense attorney of the Iraqi High Tribunal to be murdered.

Despite the dangers, Mr. Ubaidi stayed here, instead of shuttling to safer neighboring countries as many top lawyers did, even though he expressed doubt that a fair trial was possible in the midst of chronic insecurity.

"I leave it in God's hands," Ubaidi told the Monitor last October. "My job requires me to defend any accused man, and I couldn't accept backing down now."

Ubaidi was one of a shrinking number of Iraqi professionals who chose to remain in their violent homeland. Many others who have stayed say they do it out of a sense of duty to a nation that needs their experience and expertise now more than ever. Others have family obligations that prevented them from joining the exodus.

But all face a daily diet of fear and intimidation, threats and even attempts on their life – dangers that cause family members living safely abroad to call them "crazy."

The threats come scribbled on pieces of paper, or as text messages sent to the phone of Judge Zuhair al-Maliky, the former head of the Central Criminal Court of Iraq.

The latest one, a month ago, read: "Death to the traitor!" Days later, a bomb destroyed one of the cars lined up in front of Mr. Maliky's house to provide a makeshift security cordon. An attack last year wounded three bodyguards; in another one his car was shot at.

"We had great hopes of a better future, a better life and a better country," says the lawyer, who brought corruption charges against top officials and the well- connected politician Ahmed Chalabi in 2005 and was soon pushed out.

"I feel depressed a little, because I was dreaming of having a real judiciary, of having judges able to stand against all kinds of pressures," says Maliky. "I lost every hope here, and thought it would be better to start elsewhere.... Everyone told me: 'Keep your mouth shut, and keep your position.' So what was left to stay for?"

So last fall, Maliky moved his family out of Iraq and landed a good job in Europe. He had his visa stamped in his passport, and was packing his bags. But his neighbors implored him to stay, promising that "we will be your bodyguards." Then "crazy Zuhair," in his words, changed his mind.

"I thought maybe we still have a chance," says Maliky. Then he echoes a common refrain among stalwarts. "If I leave, and others leave, who will stay?"

Now Maliky is drafting the new military penal code and tax reform – and is certain of his decision to stay. He says he has a high salary, a big house, and a family that stand by him in Iraq – though his children still marvel at the pistol he sometimes wears, and at his bodyguards.

But as Iraq continues to suffer brain drain, Maliky is also increasingly alone: Of the group of 20 or so lawyers he worked with in 2003, only two remain. Four have been killed. Maliky speaks often to those abroad; "many" want to come back, though the judge estimates it will be five years before Iraq improves.

Hopes soared for Maliky's family, as they did for so many Iraqis, during two elections and a referendum. But they dropped soon thereafter, as car bombs and death squads again became part of the daily grind.

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