The phone calls in the past week were tearful.
I spoke to two Iraqis, former colleagues who had risked their lives for Americans, to tell them I doubted they would ever be welcomed in my country.
As France mourned murders by Islamist terrorists, and US politicians thousands of miles away spewed anti-refugee rhetoric, I realised my friends probably had no friends in Washington.
For years after the 2003 invasion, Americans relied on Iraqis to navigate a country whose terrain we barely knew and whose sectarian loyalties it was vital to understand.
Journalists could not have survived without them.
The goodwill of those caught in the middle of these war zones — whether in Iraq or now perhaps in Syria — allowed us to stay safe and do our jobs.
...In the weeks that followed, though, I found few people in my government willing to help.
No single bureaucrat wanted to accept responsibility.
... “To be honest, I lost hope,” Nadeem said. “After this week — and what I saw in Washington — I can’t have hope.”
Sinan, so often the peacemaker during turbulent times in Iraq, told me he does not feel especially alone in his despair; many people in Iraq feel abandoned.
Before I called, he had been working on a security brief for the UN and he shared what he knew: 10 bodies, riddled with bullets, had been found dumped in various places around Baghdad.
Yes, he said, he wished for a better life. “But it is not your fault, my dear. Don’t be angry.
I think the whole world has gone crazy.”
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