But someone needed to pay. Late last year, Faras’s younger brother Yousef was kidnapped, shot in the head and dumped in an abandoned lot. The police called it a lawless act of revenge — one brother dying for the sins of another.
Tribal leaders say that scores of other family members of insurgents have been attacked and killed in recent years as Iraqis turned against Al Qaeda and other militant groups. Insurgents’ families have also been driven from their homes and villages, accused of being complicit in their loved ones’ crimes or simply guilty by association.
The attacks represent a small fraction of the overall violence, but they illustrate one of Iraq’s greatest struggles as it tries to break a vicious cycle of killing and revenge. As Iraq tries to evolve into a more settled nation, one based on the rule of law instead of codes of blood, its leaders struggle to persuade Iraqis to put their faith in a flawed, sometimes ineffective, legal system. “This is the problem in Iraq,” said Zuhair al-Chalabi , Iraq’s national reconciliation adviser, who spends his days trying to mediate blood disputes between warring militias and tribes. “Iraqis have to forget their wounds. Time. We need time.”
But not everyone is patient, or ready to forgive. “The law and the courts do not help us,” said Jasim al-Ajili, a Shiite Muslim in the northeastern city of Baquba, who lost two nephews to Qaeda assassinations. He said he had identified the family responsible for the murders and is planning his revenge.
“I will arrest him, kidnap him, record his confessions,” he said. “Then I will kill him if the judiciary does nothing.”
There is little sympathy for families associated with the foreign and homegrown Qaeda fighters who slaughtered tens of thousands of Iraqis and tilted the country toward chaos. The militants’ wives and widows are pariahs. Their young children are not legally recognized by Iraq’s government.
In the rural stretches of Diyala Province, in northeastern Iraq, militant recruiters found fertile soil in the seething ranks of poor, young Sunni men. Scores of the tribesmen of one local sheik, Yousef al-Hilan, joined Qaeda. They bombed cars; guarded checkpoints where they shot and killed passing Shiite motorists; and controlled entire villages.
Now, Sheik Hilan estimated, about half of their families had been killed or displaced by reprisal attacks.
“We had many families whose sons joined Al Qaeda,” said Sheik Hilan, who lost four sons to tit-for-tat slayings. “All of the pain lands on them. People want their revenge. They’ll storm the house and kill everyone there. They just want to be satisfied.”
A Diyala provincial council member said revenge killings accounted for about 5 percent of all murders over the past two years.
The killings and attacks reflect deeply rooted tribal cultures that permit — even demand — a harsh accounting, in which blood is paid with blood. Kareem Mohammed Abu Hatem said his home, car and small oil and gasoline store in the village of Bohruz were burned down as payback for his stepson’s work with Al Qaeda. The culprits were never caught, making it impossible to verify his account.
Shortly after the 2003 invasion, Arab men with long beards, foreign accents and a veneer of righteous anger arrived at Ahmed Mustafa’s village in Diyala and urged its young men to fight the American occupier. Mr. Mustafa’s oldest son, Waleed, was enraptured, and left home with the militants.
As the bodies of beheaded Iraqis began appearing in the streets, Mr. Mustafa said he urged his son to stop fighting. Then, Mr. Mustafa said, he received a letter that warned, “We will cut your tongue and kill you.” In 2007, his 17-year-old son was killed while leaving the family farm. The next year, his other son was shot to death while shopping with his mother.
Fearful for his life, Mr. Mustafa and his wife moved to a village where few people know him. “I am an innocent man,” he said.
Still, he worries that he will die next.
For the Awad family in Kirkuk, the story of their two oldest sons unspooled like Cain and Abel in the age of Al Qaeda.
Durain Adnan contributed reporting from Iraq.
