Anne Atanossian

Along the road of the journey of life on earth, we are blessed to meet people who change our vector and inspire us to new heights. Whether they are chance encounters or long-term friendships, they are all worthy of remembrance, because they influenced who we have become. I have been fortunate to meet many such people along my path who have had a significant influence on my identity. We lost Anne Atanossian a few weeks ago, and her impact  will not end with the conclusion of her earthly life. Anne was a long-time part of the Washington, D.C. Armenian community who galvanized many through her grace, intellect and example. Great role models do not look for followers or those to mentor. It is a much more organic process that occurs as a result of their talent and humility. Such was the case with Anne.

My encounter with her brilliance began in 1971. I was in my late teens and in the early stages of my bond with our Armenian cause. Armenian political activism was also in its infancy, as this was a time before the Armenian National Committee of America (ANCA) and Armenian Assembly. It was 20 years before the independence of Armenia. Advocacy for genocide recognition was a diaspora project managed by emerging committees and campaigns. Anne and her beloved husband Harry had an idea to bring together activists of all generations in Washington to protest against Turkish denial. They formed an ad hoc committee called the Action Committee for Armenian Rights (ACAR). The small but organized group sponsored several activities, but the highlight was a demonstration in Washington in April 1971. They partnered with respected patriot Dr. Haigaz Grigorian to begin a new chapter in our struggle for justice in the nation’s capital. 

My involvement up to that point was limited to a few rallies in Boston and one memorable trip to the United Nations. The ACAR publicized the demonstration to the communities on the east coast. Our family became aware of the rally through the Armenian church network. My father Carnig, an ardent Armenian patriot and WWII veteran, suggested we attend. He drove my sister Priscilla, my friend Varoujan and me from Indian Orchard to D.C. The rally was well attended and held in the shadow of the Turkish embassy. It was there that I first met Anne and witnessed her magnetic leadership. Her organizational skills and passion for Armenian rights were inspiring to the hundreds of young Armenians in attendance. Political activism was a recent phenomenon for our generation—a generation eager to apply our knowledge of the injustices against our people. Similar to many of my peers, we were the beneficiaries of a heritage-based education that provided a foundation for contributing to our cause. Over that weekend, Anne became a beacon for us, as we marveled at her ability to connect people to a common purpose. During a small group gathering, it became obvious that she deeply cared about the youth and was an incredibly effective motivator. That weekend was a watershed event in my entry into Hai Tahd. Anne and Harry continued their efforts with the ACAR until the spark they lit ignited new national efforts. 

We must always remember and respect those who had the foresight and courage to trailblaze. Anne left a huge footprint in the growth of political activism in this country. I remember that weekend and subsequent activities as if they occurred yesterday. This vivid recollection is attributed to the impact they had on my own journey. There have been countless demonstrations, advocacy campaigns and educational processes, but I have often thought about Anne and Harry. For myself, and I would assume many others, it began on those streets in Washington. 

Years went by, and my path crossed with the Atanossians a few times, but in 2011 an unexpected encounter brought the past to the present. Our family made our first trip to Armenia that year and joined a small tour group. We grew close with an Armenian woman named Noni (Nazeli DeBlasio) from New York who also was visiting for the first time. Typical of Armenians and the interconnecting branches of many dialogues, we quickly discovered that she had been in the Long Island AYF and attended the St. Sarkis Church. Under the shadow of eternal Ararat, our conversation shifted into our history and the Genocide. Noni asked me how I got involved. I told her about my teenage years in New England, the special experience in Washington and the couple who led this life-changing event. 

When I mentioned Anne and Harry, Noni looked stunned and declared that they were her dear aunt and uncle (Harry was her mom’s brother from Providence). Older memories instantly became current, as I learned more about this incredible couple. During that conversation and subsequent discussions, I shared with Noni my deep respect for Anne and the impact she had on many of us. Noni was kind enough to keep us informed of her status over the years, and it was she who called me with the sad news of Anne’s passing. I believe that with faith there are no coincidences. Our paths crossing with Noni created a beautiful friendship and gave us wonderful insight into Anne and her extended family. It also enabled me to recall some very important years and articulate to others their meaningful impact. I am fortunate to have learned about this incredible individual who led one of the most important inflection points in my life as an Armenian. A pilot light was lit that has never extinguished. Anne belongs on the list of those to whom I am eternally grateful.

When I decided to tell this story, I wanted to seek the wisdom of one of Anne’s peers from those incredible early days. After asking several friends who were a part of the Washington scene during that time, most suggested that I speak with Eleanor Caroglanian. Eleanor and her husband Oscar were close friends of Anne and Harry for decades. They were equally active in the community, and Oscar led the remarkably successful 70th anniversary commemoration of the Armenian Genocide at Arlington National Cemetery. From my observations of Anne during those early activist days, it was apparent that she was a very talented woman who willingly shared her gifts with her people. After speaking with Noni and Eleanor, I learned that she was truly a Renaissance woman. More than 50 years ago, Anne was one of the few female leaders in our community, and I am certain that she inspired many young Armenian women and men to greater heights. Leadership requires the courage to focus on the mission and ignore the noise. Her love of our culture and community fueled a unique and inspiring brand of leadership. Professionally, Anne was equally remarkable. For many years she was the head of the English department at Wheaton (Md.) High School. She was a prolific writer and always responded with grace when her talents were needed. Anne was quite fluent in Shakespearean literature, and she practiced her knowledge as an actor in the prestigious Arena Theatre in Washington. Anne was able to willingly contribute to her communities in a variety of ways with her speaking, writing and acting capabilities. Consider for a moment how many high school students she must have motivated and mentored simply through her natural ability.

Anne was originally from New York, and her family moved to the Washington area after the war. She met her husband Harry through the AYF, and they made their life together in the metro D.C. area. In addition to being an early role model of female leadership in the Armenian community, she was a beloved wife, mother, aunt, cousin and friend to many during her extraordinary life. The breadth of her impact is so extensive that it reminds me of the adage, “If you want to accomplish something, ask a busy person.” Several individuals who knew her well speak often of her intelligence and talent. I was impressed that they also spoke of these attributes with immense respect, which is a clear indication of her compassion and humility. 

Our life on earth is sometimes referred to as a journey, during which we are privileged to meet some very special people. Perhaps they mentored us at a critical juncture of our lives or provided us the support that we all need at some point. As Armenians in America, we have the unique and rewarding opportunity to meet people who become friends for a lifetime in various geographies. Sometimes we meet people briefly who we will never forget. Anne Atanossian was one of those special people. I always have high regard for those with vision. When Anne and Harry decided to do something special for Genocide recognition, we had very little infrastructure. It took vision, energy and courage to overcome the obstacles, as our “reawakening” was in its early moments. It took someone like Anne to fulfill that opportunity, and we should all be thankful for the footprint she left for our cause. After those early days, our advocacy and activism went through a period of remarkable growth, due in part to the work of those early trailblazers.

It has often been said that the greatest legacy is to be remembered. A society that fails to remember those who created what we have inherited is indeed shallow. We will always remember Anne, because her legacy is one of unique leadership and inspiration. Her gifts live on through the many who have been impacted by her teaching, writing and opening of doors that were previously closed. We offer our sympathy to her family and are comforted by the knowledge that she has been reunited with her husband and son. Those of us continuing our earthly life will remember her for the important pillars that she established for the foundation we enjoy today. Asdvadz Hokin Louysavoreh. May God illuminate her soul.

An ongoing land dispute between the Armenians of Jerusalem and a real estate company with alleged ties to settler organizations escalated on December 28 when the Armenian community was attacked by a group of masked men.

A group of 30 people wearing ski masks entered the Cows’ Garden in the historic Armenian Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem and deployed pepper spray, batons, attack dogs and stones. A dozen community members were injured, including several priests and students of the Armenian theological academy. 

The Armenian community has organized over the past two months to defend the Cows’ Garden, or Goverou Bardez, from attempts by developers to seize and demolish it. The Armenian Patriarchate of Jerusalem canceled a controversial deal in October that would lease the Cows’ Garden to a real estate company to build a luxury hotel. Since then, the company, which allegedly has ties to Israeli settler groups, has sent bulldozers and armed groups to take the land and commence construction by force. For the past two months, Armenian community members have launched a 24-hour sit-in to protect the Cows’ Garden, setting up tents and mattresses and refusing to move.

Photo Credit: Hagop Hagopian

The Armenian Quarter is home to the oldest Armenian diaspora in the world. “The Armenian Quarter, representing 1/6 of the Old City, has been inhabited by Armenians since the fourth century during the inception of Christian pilgrimages to Jerusalem, adding to its historical and cultural richness,” reads a joint statement from Bedross Der Matossian, professor of Modern Middle East History at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, and author Mary Hoogasian.

“Since the 1300s, this plot of land has been acquired through blood, sweat and a lot of financial help from the entire Armenian community,” Kegham Balian, Weekly columnist, Jerusalemite Armenian writer and media coordinator for Save the ArQ, told the Weekly regarding the Cows’ Garden. “Refugees used to come here. Pilgrims used to come here, set up tents and get nourished from the farm. To have it whisked away with a simple signature, with just the stroke of a pen, is catastrophic.”

A court confirmed that the 30 men who participated in the December 28 attack were hired by Xana Capital, the real estate company involved in the deal, according to Balian. He said Xana Capital has recruited groups of either Israelis or Arabs to participate in repeated, attempted attacks on the Cows’ Garden, providing them with false information about the purpose and targets. “It’s the classic modus operandi of settler-backed organizations. They try to make it seem like a religious altercation to pit different communities against each other,” Balian said. 

“It’s not a Jewish-Armenian issue. It’s not a Muslim-Armenian issue. It’s an issue with Xana Capital,” he continued.

Arriving at the Cows’ Garden following the attack, Israeli police arrested two Armenian community members, Paul Djernazian and Bedig Giragossian. About a dozen Armenians have been detained so far while participating in the ongoing sit-in, including Kegham’s brother Setrag Balian, the co-founder of Save the ArQ, and one minor, a 17-year-old. Those detained are typically held for a few hours then released. According to Balian, none of the Armenians who have been detained were engaging in violence or in a physical altercation.

Yet Djernazian and Giragossian are the first to have been arrested. They were taken to a high security prison outside of Jerusalem and placed in cells along with members of the armed group who had attacked the Cows’ Garden. Djernazian slept on a cement floor with a thin blanket and his slippers under his head, afraid they could be stolen. Djernazian and Giragossian were released by the court two days later. While the police appealed the court’s order, the Jerusalem District Court rejected their appeal.

The Armenian community celebrating the release of Paul Djernazian and Bedig “Kach” Giragossian

The land dispute revolves around a controversial deal signed between the Armenian Patriarchate and Xana Capital in 2021. The 99-year lease agreement granted the real estate company, led by Australian-Israeli investor Danny Rothman (also known in documents as Danny Kaufman or Rubenstein), about 25-percent of the Armenian Quarter. The agreement included a parking lot used by the entire community, five residential Armenian homes and the patriarchate’s seminary hall, all located in the Cows’ Garden.

“The more they attack, the more resilient and resolute we become in our goal of preserving and protecting our heritage. By intimidating us, they think we will be deflated and demoralized, but clearly they have never dealt with Armenians. Our community isn’t violent. We’re peaceful, but we’re not stupid,” Balian said.

The secretive agreement was reached without the knowledge or consultation of the Armenian community of Jerusalem and came under intense scrutiny by the community, clergy and Armenian lawyers from the United States. Pressure on the Patriarchate to cancel the deal heightened when the Palestinian Authority and Jordan withdrew their recognition of Armenian Patriarch Nourhan Manougian in May 2023, believing that the deal threatened the status quo in the Old City.

After the Patriarchate nullified the agreement on October 26, citing “false representation, undue influence and unlawful benefits,” Xana Capital resorted to sending bulldozers and armed groups to the Cows’ Garden to start construction by force. So far they have partially torn down the wall that separates the main parking lot from that of the Patriarchate. For two months, the Armenian community has staged a peaceful sit-in to protect the Cows’ Garden from further destruction.

Members of Save the ArQ burning the midnight oil

On November 5, Rothman entered the site with a group of 15 armed Israeli settlers and attack dogs. They reportedly demanded the expulsion of Armenians from the Cows’ Garden and called it their land. Alerted to their arrival, local Armenians joined the protest. After several hours of an intense stand-off, the settlers and Armenian community members were forced to disperse.

On November 12, a bulldozer arrived at the Cows’ Garden to continue demolition work. A group of Armenian protesters gathered to block access to the site with cars and fences.

A motorcade of Israeli settlers returned to the Cows’ Garden on November 15 on vehicles and motorbikes. Israeli police arrived on the scene and detained three Armenian community members participating in the peaceful protest.

In response, the Armenian Patriarchate released a statement on November 16 accusing the developers attempting to build on the Cows’ Garden of disregarding its cancellation of the lease agreement. “[They] have instead elected for provocation, aggression and other harassing, incendiary tactics including destruction of property, the hiring of heavily armed provocateurs and other instigation,” the statement reads.

“In recent days, the vast destruction and removal of asphalt on the grounds of the Armenian Quarter has been done without the presentation of permits from the municipality by neither the developer nor the police,” the statement continues.

For Balian, the crisis facing the Armenian Quarter represents another threat to historic Armenian land, following the fall of Artsakh in September 2023 and the ethnic cleansing of its Armenian population by Azerbaijan. “We saw our brothers and sisters get bombarded and butchered during the Artsakh War. It was a moral obligation on our part to defend this land, to prevent another loss of land,” Balian reflected. “We felt like we needed to do this to protect and preserve our heritage. Enough is enough.”

Note: On January 1, 2024, the Republic of Artsakh was officially dissolved per the decree signed by Artsakh President Samvel Shahramanyan on September 28, 2023, following Azerbaijan’s full throttle military assault that resulted in the fall of Artsakh and the ethnic cleansing of its Armenian population. According to the decree, all Artsakh state institutions have been dissolved, and the republic has ceased to exist. Siranush Sargsyan’s report highlights the ongoing humanitarian crisis arising from the genocide carried out by Azerbaijan against Artsakh and the profound needs of the forcibly displaced Armenians of Artsakh.

One year ago, the depopulation of Artsakh began with a blockade imposed by Azerbaijan on December 13, 2022. It was completed on September 19, 2023, when Azerbaijan launched a military assault on Artsakh to seize the territory and forcibly displace its population. In the past year, the people of Artsakh have endured a nine-month siege, a two-day war, forced displacement and the loss of their homeland. Now 100,000 Armenians from Artsakh are living as refugees in Armenia.

The stories of displaced families are all unique, yet they share a common harsh reality. Families grapple with a spectrum of challenges—social, psychological, economic and cultural—and carry stories of survival and strength amid the uncertainties of their circumstances far away from their homes. Armenian municipalities, diaspora Armenians and international organizations have been working together to address the immediate needs of the displaced, including food, hygiene and household items. But the problems are diverse and difficult, especially the issues of finding affordable apartments for rent, providing necessary household appliances and furniture and securing employment.

Lilit Sargsyan, a single mother from Askeran, Artsakh, with her six-year-old daughter and parents now call Khachpar village in the Masis municipality of Armenia their home. Unable to afford rent, Sargsyan, with the help of friends, acquired a makeshift cabin, or a domik. Her father is working hard to renovate the cabin, hoping to shield the family from the winter cold. Her grandmother’s old carpet, the most precious thing she brought with her from Artsakh, makes the home a bit warmer.

Lilit Sargsyan in front of the makeshift house (or domik), which she bought with the help of friends and will become her new house

Currently teaching at Khachpar Secondary School, Sargsyan regards her teaching years in Artsakh as the most meaningful and cherished period of her life.

Sargsyan has experienced four wars in her lifetime. She says the most challenging was the recent two-day war in September. Facing a military attack after nine months of blockade, the family had no access to hiding places, food or transportation. Organizing care for her disabled daughter during the siege was especially tough. She could not take her daughter to the rehabilitation center twice a week like she used to due to the lack of fuel. She did not know how to explain the daily struggle for food to her daughter.

“Everyday after 6 o’clock was the hardest moment for me. Although I missed my daughter during the day, I didn’t want to go home, because I had nothing to give her,” Sargsyan said. “When there was nothing, she ate spaghetti, which until the blockade I used to cook a lot for her with oil and salt. But I couldn’t buy it. Then a friend of mine gave me three kilograms of real white flour, which was a miracle for me at that time. I tried to make spaghetti with salt, water and flour, and it worked. She loved eating it. There was no oil, so I added lard, but she didn’t understand and ate it with pleasure.” 

Until her domik is repaired, Lilit Sargsyan is staying with her daughter and parents in Khachpar in her aunt’s house

In Khachpar, Sargsyan’s family found a warm welcome. “Perhaps it’s because many here are refugees from Azerbaijan due to the 1990s Artsakh War and those who settled after the 2020 war. They understand us better,” she reflected. However, challenges persist. The Armenian government has issued a temporary protection status to forcibly displaced people from Artsakh. Like most families, Sargsyan is still waiting to receive documents confirming their status and cannot access child benefits, while her parents cannot receive their pension.

According to the decision adopted by the Armenian government, people forcibly displaced from Artsakh have been granted the status of temporary protection, rather than citizenship or refugee status. Only after receiving a document confirming this status along with temporary registration can forcibly displaced people receive their pensions or child benefits.

Tens of thousands of forcibly displaced people are still waiting to receive the document confirming their temporary protection status and have not received their pensions for three months. They are also unable to benefit from a number of state subsidy programs and benefits due to the lack of timely registration.

While residing in Artsakh, residents had used passports of the Republic of Armenia. It is insulting and incomprehensible to Sargsyan, and many other displaced people from Artsakh, why she should now choose between giving up her passport in exchange for another one or being considered a refugee in her own homeland.

Sargsyan yearns to return to Artsakh yet struggles to envision coexistence with Azerbaijanis. “We just don’t feel safe living with Azerbaijanis. Talking about security is absurd, especially if we aren’t going to have an army or any other way to defend ourselves,” she said. Asked what she would bring with her from Artsakh to Armenia if given the chance, she said, “Perhaps our pineapple and pomegranate crops have turned into bird feed or rotted.” She would bring saplings from those trees and open the window of their house to prevent mold.

According to the deputy mayor of Masis, Khoren Aroyan, in the first days of the mass displacement, about 12,000 people from Artsakh settled in the town of Masis and neighboring villages. Some of them have since moved to other regions of Armenia, and about 8,500 displaced people remain. 

After the Baku and Sumgait pogroms against Armenians during the first Artsakh War, many people with roots in Artsakh fled to Masis. After the 2020 war, many people from Artsakh once again sought refuge in Masis among their relatives and friends.

Sarushen is one of many villages in Artsakh that was fired on by Azerbaijani forces throughout the blockade, restricting agricultural work and garden cultivation. When the war started on September 19, Ivan Harutyunyan from Sarushen could only save his family members, leaving behind everything else he cherished. 

Ivan Harutyunyan and Alina Harutyunyan both live in the corridor of a non-functioning library, which serves as both a kitchen and a living room

“We left our lands, our livestock and our ancestors’ graves,” Harutyunyan said with a heavy heart. “We had no choice but to abandon everything and escape through the forests.” His journey of forced displacement from the Artsakh capital Stepanakert, lasting almost three days, led him to the town of Goris in southern Armenia and then to Masis.

“I regret losing the four tractors I used not only for our gardens and arable lands but also for the entire village. We can rebuild houses, but how do we work without equipment?” Harutyunyan said. 

Today, he shares a room in a former, dilapidated library building with several families, including those of his three brothers, totaling 31 people. Despite efforts by the municipal administration to provide beds and essentials, living conditions are challenging. Families share a single toilet-bathroom, and there is no kitchen. The struggle for normalcy persists, a common thread in the lives of the displaced.

Alina Harutyunyan, a mother of four children, was displaced from the village of Harutyunagomer in the Martakert region of Artsakh. Her family was involved in pig breeding, poultry farming and cultivating buckwheat. When Azerbaijan attacked, she had to leave behind the unfinished corn harvest and embark on a migration journey with her family.

They found temporary refuge in a room of the same library where Ivan Harutyunyan and his family are staying. Since there is no kitchen, Harutyunyan and other displaced women cook dinner on a small gas stove in the hallway.

Harutyunyan was only able to bring essential documents with her. With the assistance of the community administration and diaspora Armenians, her family has received beds and a small refrigerator, which are still insufficient to meet the needs of the families sharing the tight space.

Alina Harutyunyan in her makeshift kitchen

Harutyunyan hopes that, with continued support from benefactors, she can secure a refrigerator, dishes, household items, a television and computer for her two children, who are in school. “We all get together in the evenings and try to watch something on my daughter’s phone. It’s our only source of entertainment,” Harutyunyan said. Just like Ivan, Harutyunyan faces the challenges of making a home in the confines of a library, hoping for a brighter future with the kindness of those willing to help.

“Every time we start again from scratch,” began a conversation with 44-year-old Svetlana Mamunts, a mother of four children. 

Mamunts’s family was forcibly displaced from the village of Aghabekalandj in the Martakert region of Artsakh. “When the explosions started, I was kneading dough. I left it unfinished, took my children and went into the basement,” Mamunts recalled.

The dilapidated bathroom in Svetlana Mamunts’s rented house

Mamunts and her family managed to escape and reach Stepanakert with a neighbor’s car. The Azerbaijani checkpoint that every car passed through while exiting Artsakh was particularly terrifying for Mamunts. “All those who had a man in their house went through that fear and mentally said goodbye to their relatives,” she said. They spent several days sleeping in cars, and after a three-day journey, they arrived in Armenia. The rented house they now occupy has almost nothing. 

The family left behind two cars, and if they had fuel, they would have brought at least their household items with them. “But the most difficult thing is that we left our land, our house, our cattle,” Mamunts lamented. She regrets not bringing her sewing machine, which she used not only for herself but also to fulfill orders from villagers.

“Everyone wants to go back, but at what cost? If we have to live with Azerbaijanis, I will not dare to take my children there under any circumstances,” Mamunts shared.

Svetlana Mamunts, her husband Garik and their children in their new house

“It is the third time we have become refugees and lost our home, and we seem to have adapted to it, but for those who lost their home for the first time, it is very difficult. I try to calm them down,” said Ellada Harutyunyan.

When the Artsakh independence movement started in the 1980s, Harutyunyan lived with her family in Baku, Azerbaijan. During the Sumgait and Baku pogroms directed against Armenians, Azerbaijanis stabbed and killed Harutyunyan’s father. Her family arrived in Yerevan on December 7, 1988, the day of the devastating Armenian earthquake, then left for Artsakh. 

After the end of the first Artsakh War, her family settled in Aknaghbyur village in Artsakh. “As bees return to their nest, so we returned. The call of the motherland is inexplicable,” Harutyunyan said. With that call, after the 2020 Artsakh War, even though Aknaghbyur was occupied by Azerbaijanis, Harutyunyan’s family returned to Artsakh and lived in Stepanakert with rent. “If there is an opportunity, we will all return. It is our centuries-old homeland. We left our history and our sanctities there,” Harutyunyan said.

After Azerbaijan’s military assault on Artsakh in September 2023, it was difficult for the Harutyunyan family to make the decision to leave the homeland. Throughout the blockade, Harutyunyan’s husband guarded the border with other soldiers. Yet seeing that everyone was leaving, the family also took the path of migration. 

Ellada Harutyunyan

Harutyunyan finds it difficult to describe the two-day journey from Artsakh to Armenia. “People died on the road, and new ones were born. People were getting sick all the time,” she recalled.

Now Harutyunyan lives with her husband in the non-functioning Kindergarten No. 4 in Masis, Armenia. Another 67 displaced people from different villages of Artsakh live in the kindergarten building. There are no supplies or proper living conditions, but the families cannot afford to rent a house. “Even now, we seem to be waiting for something to happen. And you wonder, where are we going next? Is this ever going to end?” Harutyunyan posed.

Anahit Tamrazyan, a 37-year-old mother of six children, was displaced from Haterk village in the Martakert region of Artsakh. Her family worked in gardening and animal husbandry. Following Azerbaijan’s attack, they fled in a truck and drove to Armenia. “When we left the village, I managed to let the cattle go so that at least they wouldn’t die of hunger,” said Tamrazyan.

Anahit Tamrazyan and her family

When the fighting started, Tamrazyan’s eight-year-old son Davit initially thought he was hearing the sounds of construction, but he quickly composed himself and ran to the basement. He misses his friends, who he last saw during the deportation, but he could not approach them to say goodbye. Davit dreams of becoming an artist, but in his letter to Santa Claus, he asked for a toy weapon. “To return to our village and protect the village,” he explained.

“Although we were close to the border and it was dangerous, we were home. All my children find it very difficult to adapt here,” Tamrazyan said. Despite the difficulties of the blockade, Davit believes life is better in their village in Artsakh. He hopes to return to see his friends, Hansel and David.

Anahit Tamrazyan’s eight-year-old son Davit