The founder, Elissa Montanti, quickly responded: Yes, of course, she would take on his case, but first the brothers had to get to Turkey.
They did make it safely across the border. And after a long and arduous journey navigating a country they don't know, a language they don't speak and with meager funds, they made it to Ankara, the Turkish capital, where they are now waiting.
Montanti has been working on the brothers' paperwork to get Abdulrahman to the U.S. for medical treatment, made all the more challenging because they don't have passports.
Their visa requests were denied. Now they are waiting to see if the State Department will grant them humanitarian parole.
Omar pulls his brother in closer, gently stroking his cheek. The two, always close, are now inseparable.
But Abdulrahman, despite his frequent shy smiles, is constantly plagued by the memories.
"He has nightmares and sometimes daydreams, bad daydreams," Omar tells us. "He says 'I feel it, I feel just like there is a snake around.' I keep telling him it doesn't exist and he says it hurts and starts screaming."
Abdulrahman, under his breath, says he sees a big one, surrounded by smaller ones.
Omar says his mind is always churning, obsessed with make sure his brother is, quite simply, OK.
"All the time I think how to make him comfortable. It's just like raising a child -- I have to take all the responsibilities. He needs to be educated again. I want to take advantage of this situation to teach him languages, everything I can."
Tragically, Abdulrahman has already learned one of the harshest lessons of all.
"The most important thing that he's learning at this time," Omar says, "it's to be aware, to grow up his mind. He's not a child anymore."