Courier Online, June 22, 2026
Sassounian
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1- Pashinyan May Strip the Citizenship of
Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan is becoming increasingly intolerant to all those who disagree with him.
In the midst of the June 7 parliamentary elections, Pashinyan illegally ordered the arrests of hundreds of opposition members and several parliamentary candidates; prevented the leaders of opposition parties from leaving the country; and threatened to imprison them and ban their political parties.
Next, Pashinyan may not allow Armenians who oppose him to vote at all and may strip them of their citizenship. Does anyone still think that the government can be changed through elections?
The latest problem began when Pashinyan heard that a large number of Armenian citizens living in Russia were planning to travel to Armenia to vote in the June 7 parliamentary elections. Initially, he falsely claimed that he was not worried about them, since he was certain that they would be voting for his political party. However, not believing his own claim, he announced that they would be intercepted when entering Armenia and subjected to a 25-day military training. In addition to preventing these Armenians from voting, he denigrated the patriotic act of military service by presenting it as a form of punishment.
When Armenians ask why Diaspora Armenians who are not citizens of Armenia are not allowed to vote in the Armenian elections, I tell them they should be much more concerned about the fact that around one million Armenian citizens, who have lived abroad since the country’s independence, are not allowed to vote in their homeland’s elections, unless they are in Armenia on election day. No one has the right to deprive Armenian citizens who live overseas of exercising their fundamental right to vote. This is why over 150 countries allow their overseas citizens to vote.
The problem became much more serious after Pashinyan’s government decided to place residency requirements on Armenian citizens who travel to Armenia to vote. To make sure that never again those who are opposed to the regime can fly to Armenia at the last minute to vote, Pashinyan’s parliamentary allies announced last week that they are planning to amend the law to require that all citizens who come to Armenia from overseas to vote can only do so if they have lived in Armenia for at least six months prior to the elections.
This is wrong and discriminatory. Pashinyan has no right to treat the citizens of Armenia who live overseas as second-class citizens. No one has the right to deprive Armenian citizens of the right to vote.
Instead of recognizing that the Diaspora is a valuable asset, Pashinyan is trying to discourage its members from any involvement in their homeland. The Diaspora is much more than a “milking cow.” They can contribute to Armenia’s prosperity through their investments and expertise. A small nation, having survived centuries of persecution, massacres and even genocide, should not be split into smaller factions. Pashinyan has already divided them into former vs. current leaders, Hayastantsis vs. Artsakhtsis, Hayastantsis vs. Diasporans, and now internal vs. external citizens. He should follow the call for unity issued by prominent poet Yeghishe Charents: “Oh, Armenian people, your only salvation is in your collective power.”
When Pashinyan first came to power in 2018, he dismantled the Diaspora Ministry, the only existing link between Armenia and the Diaspora. Instead, he created “The High Commissioner’s Office of Diaspora Affairs of Armenia” headed by Zareh Sinanyan, who proceeded to destroy all the bridges between Armenia and the Diaspora. Pashinyan himself has made derogatory remarks about Diaspora Armenians, while meeting with them during his travels overseas.
Ironically, Armenia’s enemies, Azerbaijan and Turkey, are the ones that recognize the importance of the Diaspora. Over the years, both Pres. Erdogan of Turkey and Pres. Aliyev of Azerbaijan have repeatedly commented that they have excellent relations with the Armenian government, but they are alarmed that “the powerful” Diaspora is interfering in their plans to exact maximum concessions from Armenia.
The Turkish and Azeri governments have given specific instructions to their embassies and consulates to follow closely the activities and statements of local Armenian communities. They monitor the Armenian media to be aware of the messages they communicate and the activities they are planning. The collected information is transferred to the foreign ministries of Azerbaijan and Turkey.
A recent example is the “Diaspora Mobilization Conference” which was held in Paris on April 11-12, 2026 in the presence of 170 Armenian activists from 26 countries, including three former Prime Ministers of Armenia and representatives from the Artsakh government.
Ilaha Khantamirova, an analyst at the Center for Eurasian Studies (AVIM) based in Ankara, wrote an extensive two-part analysis of the Paris conference. Here are excerpts from her report: “Pashinyan stands out as the first political leader in the history of independent Armenia to openly antagonize both the Armenian Church and the Diaspora. In particular, his shift in rhetoric regarding the Karabagh issue in recent years — has caused serious rifts within Diaspora circles. Pashinyan’s explicit acknowledgment that Karabagh constitutes Azerbaijani territory…signifies a major departure from traditional Armenian nationalist discourse.”
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Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan’s partner, Anna Hakobyan, will participate in the Fourth Annual Global First Partners Academy, taking place in New York City from June 26 to July 4, 2026.
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By ANI DUZDABANYAN, Los Angeles Times
accompanied by four police motorcycles lines up in front of Landmark Venue in
Mission Hills. It’s not an official diplomatic delegation but an Armenian
wedding arriving to the party after a ceremony at St. Leon Cathedral in
Burbank. The newlyweds, Nelly Nazarian and Sahak Ter-Sahakyan, slowly emerge
from a white Rolls-Royce and enter the venue on a red carpet, accompanied by a
live violin performance.
a sea of white roses in tall vases reaching toward the 25-foot ceiling strung
with pearls and wisteria. Plates of chi kyufta, lean raw meat kneaded with
bulgur, aromatics and spices, sit alongside enough caviar to accommodate bumps
the size of golf balls for 450 guests. And in the back, two cooks are making
2-foot-long khorovats: The hundreds of skewers of pork, beef, chicken and lamb
appear occasionally through the smoke on the grills.
says. “As Armenians, it’s important to keep the traditions alive. We also
wanted to do some new things so our guests of all generations could enjoy
it.”
in Los Angeles, and their foundation is the Armenian banquet hall, built for a
community that values outsize celebrations: hundreds of guests, extravagant
decor, massive dance floors, famous singers and DJs, flowing wine and tables
laden with food.
embrace more of kaleidoscopic L.A. — including quinceañeras, bar mitzvahs,
nonalcoholic “coffee raves” — extending a collective notion of
hospitality, culinary ideas and the importance of gatherings.
the easiest one to picture,” says Vrej Sarkissian, chief executive of
Anoush Catering and L.A. Banquets. “You can see it on the table.” The
food is increasingly lavish and varied, and some new traditions have replaced
old ones. At the newlyweds’ reception, sushi boats and shrimp ceviche spoons
supplant tabbouleh. At midnight, instead of the traditional pamidorov
dzvadzegh, or tomato omelet, for guests who want to sober up after too many
vodka shots, food trucks line up in front of the banquet hall serving pizza,
burgers and ice cream.
the late 1980s and later spread to Glendale, Burbank, North Hollywood, Pasadena
and other areas of Los Angeles, as did the Armenian American community.
first established in Los Angeles became information hubs for immigrants
navigating the challenges of their new home. Banquet halls were where a parcel
could get dropped off to reach the airport or where Armenian newcomers could
learn about resources for government assistance. While the majority of these
venues are stand-alone businesses, some are affiliated with churches such as
Raymond and Ani Kouyoumjian Hall at St. Gregory Armenian Catholic Church or
Kalaydjian Banquet Hall and Cultural Center at St. Leon.
first employment. Some had degrees in science and education in their home
countries and were sensitive to a new reality. Sarkissian, whose family started
one of the first banquet halls in Los Angeles, remembers that his father acted
as a friend and counselor to a lot of immigrants who suffered extreme culture
shock.
father guided a lot of people,” said Sarkissian, “helping them
establish businesses, start or connect with families, continue education and a
plethora of resources.”
Banquet Hall. Founded by his father, Sebooh Sarkissian in 1986, it was formerly
located on the corner of Sunset and Harvard in Hollywood. From the beginning,
Sebooh, his wife and three sons were involved in every aspect of the business
from moving the furniture to dishwashing to playing the latest hits during the
events as DJs.
more locations in Glendale, North Hollywood and Mission Hills as a banquet hall
and catering business. Now, Anoush Catering & L.A. Banquets has two venues,
Gleonaks Anoush and Landmark.
celebrate,” says Sarkissian. “The music is going, people are dancing,
and the food is always on the table! You’re doing a toast in 30 minutes with
your uncle, you’re dancing with somebody else later, and the good food is still
there!”
celebrations: As a minority community surviving far away from the homeland,
it’s a way to show solicitude in times of grief and the ultimate _expression_ of
sharing and partying.
love for partying became popular with non-Armenian clientele too. The draw was
not only a variety of food choices but also the unique atmosphere: Guests dance
all night long to live performances, occasionally taking breaks for freshly
served khorovats; children sleep on the chairs completely unbothered by the
music and sing-alongs; grandmas and elderly uncles discuss the latest
developments in their families over cups of black coffee.
Glendale, at least four kitchen team members work 70 to 80 hours to prepare and
execute the event.
and hot appetizers of dips, salads, puff-pastry boreks, cheeses and cured
meats. Following are two to three entrees such as grilled fish with potatoes,
chicken with pilaf and, of course, khorovats, the traditional Armenian charred
meat. In the late 1970s chefs from prominent restaurants in Armenia traveled to
international culinary exhibitions in France, Greece and some Arab countries
and adopted innovative techniques. Prior to this, their menus already had been
enriched with the spices and flavors that many brought from Europe, the Middle
East and the U.S. during the Soviet-organized repatriation of the 1940s.
beloved items that we put all together,” says Michael Keshishian, the
co-owner of Vertigo. “And when we came to the United States, we brought
that buffet with us. Somehow, Greek, Russian, Armenian, semi-Lebanese mixes of
these items landed on our table including the Greek cheeses, olives, Russian eggplant
and beet salads and some Persian dishes. We made the highlights of our top 20
favorite appetizers and kept our khorovats. That became the Armenian banquet
experience.”
trends in food and design, along with interest from other Angeleno communities,
created opportunities for nontraditional concepts such as cocktail receptions,
more-intimate parties, garden celebrations with various kinds of live
entertainment, fashion shows, concerts and seminars.
for our community,” says Sarkissian. “These events bring everyone
together. We do it really well, and we also set the trend for the other
communities.”
in 2014 with four other investors.
revolutionize the entire menu, something that hadn’t been done yet. Even though
the chefs at banquet halls had added some new dishes to the core family-style
menu, such as Chinese chicken salad or mushroom quiche, they stayed true to the
traditional combination of charred meat, chicken kebabs, carrot and olivier
salads (cooked vegetables with mayonnaise and sour cream) and rice pilaf or
bulgur.
to be unstuck. I took all of the classics, the entire menu of almost all the
existing banquet halls and created my version of a fusion Armenian banquet hall
menu,” says Keshishian.
mayonnaise, walnuts, pomegranate and garlic — became a salad of cubed roasted
beets with goat cheese and strawberries, garnished with mint, balsamic
reduction, figs and candied walnuts with rosemary and cinnamon.
brother-in-law Sarkis Khatchikian founded Noor Events in the vibrant Paseo
Shopping Mall in Pasadena in 2010, they made sure to include fusion dishes like
bao buns and char siu to cater to the local Asian population. He also added
some of his father’s favorite Persian dishes, including ghormeh sabzi and
khoresh gheymeh.
Taylor Swift, Kelly Clarkson, John Legend and others. When he and Maggie
married 30 years ago, they couldn’t find a venue that would meet all their
expectations and ended up having their celebration at a ranch in Malibu.
Everything from the furniture, portable kitchen, valet service and food was
catered. Noor Events became Robert’s executive business plan at Pepperdine
University, where he was working on an MBA degree.
elsewhere in mind,” says Shahnazarian. “The banquet halls are great
when they know our culture and food. But sometimes the location is not great,
they don’t have a view, the decor is kind of gold with lions. … People with a
budget end up going to the country clubs and hotels. But then the food is not
there!
Armenians, whatever event they are celebrating, have Armenian food.”
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When the war in Nagorno-Karabakh came to an end, Vicken
Euljekjian was captured by Azerbaijani soldiers. In an interview with
Blankspot, he recounts his 1 891 days in captivity, the years he spent in
solitary confinement, and the freedom he ultimately regained.
RASMUS CANBÄCK
Blankspot.se
It was late in the evening on 9 November 2020 when news
broke that the war in Nagorno-Karabakh had come to an end. At the time, Vicken Euljekjian, an Armenian-Lebanese citizen who had
emigrated to the breakaway region, was in Armenia’s capital, Yerevan.
His home near the town of Shushi — known as Shusha in
Azerbaijani — was about to fall under Azerbaijani control. He believed he had
until 1 December to clear out his belongings.
What he did not realize was that the village where his
house was located was not covered by that timetable. Hoping to salvage as much
as possible, he returned home with his friend Maral. It proved a costly
mistake. Azerbaijani troops detained them both and quickly separated them.
The next day, the beatings began.
“First they hit my right ear. Then the back of my neck.
The blows were so hard that my ears started ringing,” Euljekjian recalls.
Only later did he realize that he was being held at a
detention facility in Azerbaijan’s capital, Baku.
“Since then, I have had hearing problems. I have lost
between 40 and 50 percent of my hearing in both ears. My spine was damaged so
badly that I now need support around my neck to hold my head upright.”
We meet at a café in Yerevan. Two childhood friends from
Lebanon accompany him, having travelled to Armenia to support him. He leans
forward as far as his neck brace allows in order to hear the questions. He
repeats them to make sure he has understood them correctly.
During the final period of his imprisonment, he was
confined to a wheelchair. At least he no longer needs it, but moving quickly
remains difficult.
Released on 14 January this year, Euljekjian spent a
total of 1,891 days — five years and two months — in Azerbaijani custody. His
friend Maral was released just a few months after the arrest.
Today, his medical treatment is being financed through
donations, support from friends, and assistance from an opposition political
party.
“There is both a lot and very little to say about my time
in Azerbaijan,” Vicken Euljekjian says.
Prison, he explains, is monotonous. Every day resembles
the last. The memories that remain most vivid come from the first seven months
of his captivity, when he was awaiting trial. At the time, he was being held at
a State Security Service detention facility in Baku, not far from the city’s
iconic Flame Towers.
“For about 20 days, the Red Cross managed to arrange for
me to share a cell with another Armenian prisoner. It was the only time during
those years that I was not alone. I had started hallucinating. I saw my mother
in dreams. But it did not last long.”
The arrangement ended, he says, because Azerbaijani
investigators had come to view him as a Lebanese terrorist.
A Lebanese terrorist?
“Yes. When they captured me, I gave them my Armenian passport.
Somehow they looked into my background and discovered that I was from Lebanon.
I confirmed it. Then they told me they would charge me as a Lebanese
mercenary.”
Euljekjian says he tried to explain that his family were
descendants of survivors of the Armenian Genocide.
“I told them, ‘I am Armenian by blood. My grandparents survived
the genocide of 1915.’”
There are currently more than 250 political prisoners in
Azerbaijan. Armenian detainees are rarely included in these counts. Today, an
estimated 19 Armenians remain in Azerbaijani custody.
According to him, the investigator responded that he had
never seen an Armenian passport.
“I had handed it to him only minutes earlier. It was
lying on the desk in front of him. But he repeated that he had never seen it
and locked it away in a safe. It was as if the passport had been erased from
existence.”
Soon afterwards, he says, he learned that the authorities
intended to film a video portraying him as a foreign mercenary. Because he
already understood Turkish, which is closely related to Azerbaijani, he could
follow much of what was being said.
“They accused me of receiving $2,500 a month from the
Armenian government. At that point I gave up. I told them: ‘OK, do whatever you
want.’ I understood that they were not interested in the truth.”
He nevertheless attempted to defend himself during the
trial.
“But it felt as though the verdict had already been
decided. The whole thing was theatre. You can talk until dawn and try to defend
yourself, but in the end it changes nothing.”
He was sentenced to 20 years in prison and transferred to
Gobustan Prison, a high-security facility around 50 kilometres southwest of
Baku.
Just beyond the prison walls lie the famous Gobustan rock
carvings, a popular tourist attraction. Inside, however, was a very different
reality.
For decades, the prison has been criticized
internationally for poor conditions. In its most isolated section, in a small
cell with the number 85 on the door, the third cell from the eastern flank of
the building, where he would spend the next four years, Euljekjian lived
entirely alone.
When asked whether he was allowed to leave his cell, he
looks surprised.
“Leave the cell? No.”
Not once?
“No. Never.”
The cell measured roughly two and a half by four metres.
A small window near the ceiling allowed in some daylight.
“You have to understand how bad it was,” he says. “The
air was humid – suffocating. In summer the heat was unbearable. There were mice
everywhere. It was the worst place you can imagine.”
The loneliness set in quickly.
He imagined cracks in the walls widening into escape
routes. Perhaps the damp damage would soften the concrete. He pictured life
beyond the prison walls: tourists visiting the nearby rock carvings, his family
gathering for dinners without him.
The sense of loss deepened as one piece of bad news
followed another. One by one, people close to him died, and he was unable to
attend their funerals.
First, his father passed away. Then his brother. When his
mother died as well, without him having the chance to say goodbye, it felt as
though the walls were closing in around him. He tried to remember the last
words he had spoken to them. He hoped they had been something positive.
Outside the prison, his wife Linda struggled to keep the
family together. His late brother’s children moved in with her. Both children
of Vicken and Linda were forced to abandon their studies to help earn enough money
for the family to survive.
“A large part of my time in prison was spent imagining
that I was helping my family, making sure there was food on the table,” he says.
“It was a very difficult situation for my wife. All the bills that had to be
paid.”
For him, imagination became a routine.
Every small detail he learned about life on the outside
was woven into an imagined world in which he could still participate. When he
closed his eyes, he let conversations between family members play out in his
mind. He thought about what he would have said at the funerals. He
reconstructed the scenes, over and over again, inside his head.
Could you communicate with other prisoners?
“I need to repeat this: it was the worst place. I could
not speak to anyone. Other inmates at different quarters had access to a yard
where they could walk. We who were having a life sentence had nothing like
that.”
His gaze shifts for the first time during our conversation.
Tears begin to form.
The water, he says, was green. The food was barely
edible.
“Usually it was some mixture of pasta, buckwheat and
flour with boiling water poured over it. The bread was the only thing I could
eat.”
When representatives of the International Committee of
the Red Cross visited, he repeatedly asked them for one thing.
“Water. That was all I wanted.”
The delegates were foreign staff members working with the
ICRC mission in Azerbaijan.
How often did they visit?
“According to the rules, about once a month. In reality,
every 40 or 45 days. Maybe nine times a year.”
During the visits, he was allowed to speak with family
members for two minutes.
“After four years, even that changed. We could no longer
communicate through Red Cross channels and instead had to use a government
telephone.”
Was that your only human contact?
“Yes. And they were only allowed into my cell. I was
never allowed out.”
The visitors usually brought tomatoes and cucumbers.
Occasionally, a tube of melted cheese.
“I asked for more cheese so I could put it on the bread,
but they said it was not permitted. Once they brought me a cabbage. I marinated
it in salt water and tried to preserve it. After that I was not allowed cabbage
again.”
He also asked whether they could bring sausage or other
protein-rich food.
“The prison governor claimed it might spoil. I told him I
would eat it immediately. It made no difference.”
Eventually, Euljekjian told the ICRC delegates that there
was little point in visiting him.
“Three tomatoes and two cucumbers were not worth it.”
Yet the visits continued.
“They would not listen to me, so I kept eating their
tomatoes,” he says with a faint smile.
“As a foreigner, I had nobody to stand up for my rights.
Whenever I complained to the Red Cross, they referred me to the prison
administration. When I complained to the prison administration, they referred
me back to the Red Cross.”
According to Euljekjian, Azerbaijani prisoners enjoyed
significantly better conditions. Their families could visit more frequently and
many cells contained refrigerators.
What kept you alive?
“There was only one thing: the idea that I might eventually
get out.”
And a Bible.
“That was the only book I had. I brought it with me.
There were some Russian books in the prison, but I do not speak Russian.”
By late 2025, he began to sense that something might be
changing. During one visit from ICRC on Christmas day, he learned that discussions
were taking place about his deteriorating health.
The injuries he says he sustained during the first days
of detention had worsened to the point where he needed a wheelchair. Without
adequate medical care, walking had become increasingly difficult.
Before dawn on 14 January 2026, guards suddenly woke him.
“They told me to pack my things.”
He protested.
“I asked them to at least wait until sunrise so I could
see what I was packing.”
The guards refused.
“I wanted to know the truth. If I was being transferred
to another prison, I needed to think about what to take with me. If I was going
home, I would need nothing.”
Eventually, prison officials told him that he was being released.
“I said, ‘Then I do not need anything at all.’”
He smiles.
“But they suggested I at least put on my shoes.”
He was taken to the Lachin Corridor, the road that
between 2020 and 2023 served as the only connection between Armenia and
Nagorno-Karabakh. The route became internationally known after it was blocked
for nine months before Azerbaijan’s September 2023 offensive, which triggered
the mass exodus of more than 100,000 ethnic Armenians from the region.
Together with three other Armenian detainees — Gevorg
Sujyan, Davit Davtyan, and Vagif Khachatryan — he was handed over to Armenian
authorities.
Unlike the others, who had family in Armenia, Euljekjian
had spent most of his life in Lebanon. Upon arrival, he was taken directly to
hospital. He was allowed to stay longer than needed, while finding a solution
for accommodation.
Since then, he says, he has received support from the
opposition party Armenian Revolutionary Federation and from members of the
party’s Lebanese branch. They also helped pay for airline tickets for his wife,
Linda, who had, throughout the years, fought hard to raise awareness of her
husband’s case.
What was it like seeing your family again?
“Almost six years had passed since I last saw my
daughter. It took another four months after my release before she could come
here. We simply did not have the money.”
He pauses.
“Seeing her again is the best thing that has happened to
me. She was a teenager when I was captured. Now she is 24.”
How has prison changed you?
“I would never allow it to change me,” he says. “I am
still the same person I was before.”
broke that the war in Nagorno-Karabakh had come to an end. At the time, Vicken Euljekjian, an Armenian-Lebanese citizen who had
emigrated to the breakaway region, was in Armenia’s capital, Yerevan.
Azerbaijani — was about to fall under Azerbaijani control. He believed he had
until 1 December to clear out his belongings.
house was located was not covered by that timetable. Hoping to salvage as much
as possible, he returned home with his friend Maral. It proved a costly
mistake. Azerbaijani troops detained them both and quickly separated them.
The blows were so hard that my ears started ringing,” Euljekjian recalls.
detention facility in Azerbaijan’s capital, Baku.
between 40 and 50 percent of my hearing in both ears. My spine was damaged so
badly that I now need support around my neck to hold my head upright.”
Lebanon accompany him, having travelled to Armenia to support him. He leans
forward as far as his neck brace allows in order to hear the questions. He
repeats them to make sure he has understood them correctly.
confined to a wheelchair. At least he no longer needs it, but moving quickly
remains difficult.
total of 1,891 days — five years and two months — in Azerbaijani custody. His
friend Maral was released just a few months after the arrest.
donations, support from friends, and assistance from an opposition political
party.
in Azerbaijan,” Vicken Euljekjian says.
the last. The memories that remain most vivid come from the first seven months
of his captivity, when he was awaiting trial. At the time, he was being held at
a State Security Service detention facility in Baku, not far from the city’s
iconic Flame Towers.
me to share a cell with another Armenian prisoner. It was the only time during
those years that I was not alone. I had started hallucinating. I saw my mother
in dreams. But it did not last long.”
investigators had come to view him as a Lebanese terrorist.
Somehow they looked into my background and discovered that I was from Lebanon.
I confirmed it. Then they told me they would charge me as a Lebanese
mercenary.”
descendants of survivors of the Armenian Genocide.
the genocide of 1915.’”
Azerbaijan. Armenian detainees are rarely included in these counts. Today, an
estimated 19 Armenians remain in Azerbaijani custody.
never seen an Armenian passport.
lying on the desk in front of him. But he repeated that he had never seen it
and locked it away in a safe. It was as if the passport had been erased from
existence.”
intended to film a video portraying him as a foreign mercenary. Because he
already understood Turkish, which is closely related to Azerbaijani, he could
follow much of what was being said.
Armenian government. At that point I gave up. I told them: ‘OK, do whatever you
want.’ I understood that they were not interested in the truth.”
trial.
decided. The whole thing was theatre. You can talk until dawn and try to defend
yourself, but in the end it changes nothing.”
Gobustan Prison, a high-security facility around 50 kilometres southwest of
Baku.
carvings, a popular tourist attraction. Inside, however, was a very different
reality.
internationally for poor conditions. In its most isolated section, in a small
cell with the number 85 on the door, the third cell from the eastern flank of
the building, where he would spend the next four years, Euljekjian lived
entirely alone.
looks surprised.
A small window near the ceiling allowed in some daylight.
air was humid – suffocating. In summer the heat was unbearable. There were mice
everywhere. It was the worst place you can imagine.”
routes. Perhaps the damp damage would soften the concrete. He pictured life
beyond the prison walls: tourists visiting the nearby rock carvings, his family
gathering for dinners without him.
followed another. One by one, people close to him died, and he was unable to
attend their funerals.
mother died as well, without him having the chance to say goodbye, it felt as
though the walls were closing in around him. He tried to remember the last
words he had spoken to them. He hoped they had been something positive.
family together. His late brother’s children moved in with her. Both children
of Vicken and Linda were forced to abandon their studies to help earn enough money
for the family to survive.
that I was helping my family, making sure there was food on the table,” he says.
“It was a very difficult situation for my wife. All the bills that had to be
paid.”
was woven into an imagined world in which he could still participate. When he
closed his eyes, he let conversations between family members play out in his
mind. He thought about what he would have said at the funerals. He
reconstructed the scenes, over and over again, inside his head.
not speak to anyone. Other inmates at different quarters had access to a yard
where they could walk. We who were having a life sentence had nothing like
that.”
Tears begin to form.
edible.
flour with boiling water poured over it. The bread was the only thing I could
eat.”
the Red Cross visited, he repeatedly asked them for one thing.
ICRC mission in Azerbaijan.
every 40 or 45 days. Maybe nine times a year.”
members for two minutes.
communicate through Red Cross channels and instead had to use a government
telephone.”
never allowed out.”
Occasionally, a tube of melted cheese.
but they said it was not permitted. Once they brought me a cabbage. I marinated
it in salt water and tried to preserve it. After that I was not allowed cabbage
again.”
protein-rich food.
would eat it immediately. It made no difference.”
was little point in visiting him.
tomatoes,” he says with a faint smile.
Whenever I complained to the Red Cross, they referred me to the prison
administration. When I complained to the prison administration, they referred
me back to the Red Cross.”
significantly better conditions. Their families could visit more frequently and
many cells contained refrigerators.
get out.”
There were some Russian books in the prison, but I do not speak Russian.”
changing. During one visit from ICRC on Christmas day, he learned that discussions
were taking place about his deteriorating health.
of detention had worsened to the point where he needed a wheelchair. Without
adequate medical care, walking had become increasingly difficult.
see what I was packing.”
to another prison, I needed to think about what to take with me. If I was going
home, I would need nothing.”
between 2020 and 2023 served as the only connection between Armenia and
Nagorno-Karabakh. The route became internationally known after it was blocked
for nine months before Azerbaijan’s September 2023 offensive, which triggered
the mass exodus of more than 100,000 ethnic Armenians from the region.
Sujyan, Davit Davtyan, and Vagif Khachatryan — he was handed over to Armenian
authorities.
had spent most of his life in Lebanon. Upon arrival, he was taken directly to
hospital. He was allowed to stay longer than needed, while finding a solution
for accommodation.
opposition party Armenian Revolutionary Federation and from members of the
party’s Lebanese branch. They also helped pay for airline tickets for his wife,
Linda, who had, throughout the years, fought hard to raise awareness of her
husband’s case.
daughter. It took another four months after my release before she could come
here. We simply did not have the money.”
me. She was a teenager when I was captured. Now she is 24.”
still the same person I was before.”
No airport welcome, no VIP photo ops, no City Hall visit. Not for Turkish dictator Recep Tayyip Erdogan.He is, by all accounts, set to attend the World Cup match between the United States and Turkey at SoFi Stadium on June 25th.
Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan has said he would travel to Baku to attend a future summit of the European Political Community if he receives an invitation.
Speaking during a government question-and-answer session in the National Assembly, Pashinyan said he was prepared to take part in the summit planned to be held in the Azerbaijani capital in 2029.
The wager paid off in dramatic fashion when Gaethje pulled off a stunning upset victory by TKO (corner stoppage) at the end of Round 4.The viral moment has been heavily featured by Jack, with the platform sharing reels of Arman celebrating the enormous win. The $1 million bet returned approximately $5.7 million total, delivering a net profit of roughly $4.7 million for the Armenian fighter.
Arman had been openly confident in Gaethje leading into the White House event and was seen placing the bet live. The story quickly exploded across social media, with Jack’s official account highlighting the successful payout.
This headline-grabbing win on Jack comes amid the excitement of one of the biggest upsets in recent UFC title fight history. Justin Gaethje’s victory crowned him the new undisputed lightweight champion, while Arman Tsarukyan walked away significantly richer thanks to his bold bet on the Jack platform.
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