T here is sad news daily from Iraq. The news that came by e-mail this week was a true gut punch. The e-mail from Baghdad:

“Very sad news – Akram was killed yesterday while going home from Abu. I guess his car broke down so he and another linguist took a taxi back to Baghdad after work. They were attacked by insurgents. Akram was killed and the other guy is in the hospital. What a great loss he is to our endeavor here … .”

Akram was the best interpreter I worked with in Iraq. He was also a good friend. He was an English literature major who received his degree from the University of Baghdad, belatedly, in 2004. Just two months from earning his degree in 1986, Saddam’s secret police arrested Akram and charged him with subversion. His “crime” was speaking his mind as a college student. They accused young Akram of membership in the Al Dawa party, a Shiite Muslim political party opposed to Iraq’s war with Iran.

“I was not a member of Al Dawa,” Akram said with a coy smile. “But I wished I was. It would have been an honor to be considered in Al Dawa’s company.”

Akram’s mistake was agreeing with Al Dawa and saying so in public. After he had spent 17 months in jail, a secret court sentenced Akram to seven years incarceration at Abu Ghraib. Akram spent three years locked up by Saddam’s Baathist party. Nineteen months of that was at Abu Ghraib prison.

Guards tortured Akram daily in the first weeks at Abu Ghraib. A wire was attached to one ear and another to a testicle. Then charges from a 12-volt battery were run through his body. Afterward he was handcuffed with arms behind his back and hung by the wrists for hours from a hook in the ceiling. His shoulders were dislocated many times.

“These were tortures that rarely left a mark,” said Akram. “Saddam’s guards perfected their skills and were very good at it.”

There are four separate prison complexes at Abu Ghraib. Akram lived in the one that held political prisoners. One day in 2004 I drove him over to where he’d lived. He hadn’t been back since the late 1980s. He became teary-eyed when we approached the building where he lived.

It wasn’t one of the typical cell block units at Abu Ghraib. Far from that – it was a high-roofed shed, about 35 by 50 feet in size. The military now uses the building as a garage for vehicle repairs. Akram told me that 600 prisoners lived there with him. There was less than three square feet per person.

When the Iraq-Iran war ended in 1988, Saddam issued an amnesty for many prisoners. Akram was fortunate to gain his release then. He told me his story as we drove back to our prison complex. Going out the gate from where he’d been kept, I asked what the Arabic writing was on the wall surrounding that place. Akram quoted, “There is no life without the sun. There is no dignity without Saddam.”

Akram didn’t find his dignity until the U.S. and coalition forces kicked Saddam’s butt out of power.

Akram was an intelligent man. He believed in democracy and greatly appreciated the freedom that coalition forces gave Iraq. He was also a good father and family man. He boasted about his five children and was proud that his daughter was learning English at school. He asked me if I would find him a job at the U.S. embassy in Baghdad. The daily commutes from his home in the city to Abu Ghraib were always perilous.

I delivered his job application to the embassy but it was one of thousands received. He never got a job there. I feel terrible now that I did not try harder.

I received an e-mail from Akram in mid-October. He wrote to say hello and tell me that he continued to work for the American prison advisers at Abu Ghraib. I wish my reply had said, “Akram Ali Hussein, you are a brave patriot. You work for freedom and peace despite great risks. Your courageous struggle will bring a better future to Iraq.”

I’ll miss you, friend.