Sudani lives in Ubeidi, a neighborhood of low-slung brick houses that abuts Sadr City, the Baghdad slum largely controlled by followers of rebellious Shiite cleric Moqtada Sadr. Members of Sadr's militia, the Mahdi Army, are known to operate in Ubeidi.
The dreams of the four close friends are in tatters. Jabri, for example, started business school in the southern city of Diwaniyah but quit one year later after, in succession, his father, Naeem, died in a car accident, his mother, Zahra, died of kidney failure, and his older brother, Ali, was paralyzed when his car passed a bomb as it exploded outside a police academy five months ago.
From left, police recruits Raed Sudani, Adel Finjan and Jawaad Jabri say they still want to become officers despite a campaign of violence against Iraqi security forces and pleas by their family members not to take the risks.
(Steve Fainaru -- The Washington Post)
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'I'm the Breadwinner'
Jabri lives with his injured brother in their parents' old house. "Now I'm the breadwinner," he said. "I've got to find some decent work to support my brother."
Sudani, 28, attended art school. He liked to spend hours painting Baghdad's ancient markets and their inhabitants but ultimately stopped. "I couldn't afford the materials anymore," he said.
The four said they have scoured their city looking for jobs. Then, last month, a policeman from Khalij asked Jabri if he and his friends would like to submit applications to become officers. The job paid about $210 a month; it was steady work they could count on, the policeman said.
Jabri and the three others were eager; their families were horrified. Sudani has a 6-month-old daughter, Fatma, but his entire family tried to argue that the job wasn't worth the risk. He finally resorted to lying, telling his wife and parents that he had entered a training course with the Transportation Ministry.
Jabri consulted an older family friend, who pleaded with him that it was too dangerous. Jabri disagreed: "It's better to eat dried bread than no bread at all," he told the man. "I'm a young man. I can't sit around without a job. We have a family. We have a house."
On Sunday, Sept. 12, Jabri, Sudani, Finjan and Aboud showed up with their birth certificates, passports and other identification at the barred front gate of a police command center in Baghdad. The police, fearing infiltrators, set up a desk behind the gate, so dozens of applicants lined up in the street to hand their papers through the iron bars.
"Stay alert," an officer told the crowd. "Don't linger in one place. You'll get bombed."
Early the following morning the applicants were invited back for a brief physical examination and a workout at the Zawra Sports Club. Applicants with tattoos were rejected as probable former convicts. The recruits were asked to do 20 push-ups and run sprints.
They were still working out when a rocket-propelled grenade, clearly aimed at them, struck a wall adjacent to the field and exploded. No one was hurt, but the police cut short the testing. Two officers escorted the recruits to the gate and asked them to return the following morning.
Early that Tuesday, when Jabri, Sudani, Finjan and Aboud returned in Finjan's black Volkswagen Passat, concrete barriers blocked the street. A policeman told them they would have to wait until it was safe to enter.
The four men sat on the sidewalk. It was about 8 a.m. Dozens of recruits were milling around and chatting, some dozing against the barriers. Jabri noticed that nearby shop owners were glancing nervously at the recruits; some were closing their metal shutters, even though it was the morning rush hour.
"Let's get out of here; it's too dangerous," Jabri recalled telling his companions.
