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Los Angeles Times
With his sister killed last week by guards for a U.S. convoy, a local
man seeks to get 3 nieces out of Baghdad.
By Molly Hennessy-Fiske, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer
October 17, 2007
Peter Dishchekenian went to meet his parents at the airport early this
week, wondering how to tell them the horrible news.
He couldn't do it when they arrived -- his father, a retired computer
programmer, was too happy, glowing after a two-week trip to Armenia.
So Peter, 31, drove them home to Glendale first and sat them down in
the living room.
"There was a tragic accident in Iraq," he said in their native
Armenian, his voice cracking. "It involved some contractors and Aunt
Maro. She passed away."
Daniel Dishchekenian, 62, repeated his sister's name, Maro. Then he
stared at the floor. After a while, he put his hand over his eyes, and
he began to weep.
Marani "Maro" Ohannes, 48, a mother of three living in Baghdad, was
shot by private security guards Oct. 9 while ferrying neighbors home
from church.
Dishchekenian had not seen his sister, a former scientist for Iraq's
Agriculture Ministry, in almost 30 years. He thought he had time, that
the U.S. invasion would stabilize the country and allow the family to
reunite in their hometown of Basra in the south. Now he's desperate to
rescue Ohannes' three daughters, his brother and another sister from
Iraq before they too become casualties.
"We are working to get them out at any price," he said.
Private security companies in Iraq have been drawing criticism since
employees of Blackwater USA, hired by the U.S. government, opened fire
in a Baghdad square last month, killing 17 Iraqis. Blackwater said its
personnel had come under attack, but Iraqis said the Blackwater guards
began the shooting. The incident is under investigation.
The guards who killed Ohannes were employed by an Australian company
based in the United Arab Emirates, Unity Resources Group, also hired
to protect U.S. contractors.
Daniel Dishchekenian was born in Iraq but considers himself an
Armenian American. As an American citizen, he was stunned to hear that
his sister had been killed to protect a U.S. convoy. He fears the
significance of her death will be lost on most Americans accustomed to
a daily death toll of Iraqis killed in Baghdad.
Ohannes was the baby, the sister he grew up with in a one-room mud
house. Their father, a shoemaker, built the house by hand after he was
forced to flee Turkey in the mass relocations of Armenians in 1915.
She struggled like the rest of her eight siblings to graduate from
college, then stayed home to care for her ailing parents and husband
while other relatives fled the country. Two years ago her husband
died, leaving her to support daughters Nora, 20, Karon, 18, and Alice,
13.
Ohannes never asked for help, Dishchekenian said, but he called and
sent money anyway.
The last time he talked to her on the phone a few months ago, she and
her girls sounded scared.
"They didn't feel safe," he said. "It was not only the security people
but the insurgents. The fear was there always."
Dishchekenian tries to imagine how his sister died. He has seen
photographs of her white 1990 Oldsmobile after the shooting, the
driver's side door dripping with blood. He keeps a copy of the photos
that ran in an Armenian newspaper.
His brother Albert Dishchekenian, 55, and sister Ana Sahak, 53, who
live in Iraq, told him that Ohannes was driving back from church with
a woman riding beside her and two children in the back seat when
security contractors fired a machine gun at them. When Albert
Dishchekenian and Sahak claimed Ohannes' body from police afterward,
it was riddled with bullets. Her passenger Geneva Jalal, 30, also was
killed.
Leedya Sargis, Ohannes' sister-in-law, said the family tried to
contact Unity, but did not receive a response.
Unity contends that the contractors tried to warn Ohannes to stay back
with signs, strobe lights, hand signals and a flare before shooting.
With his sister killed last week by guards for a U.S. convoy, a local
man seeks to get 3 nieces out of Baghdad.
By Molly Hennessy-Fiske, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer
October 17, 2007
Peter Dishchekenian went to meet his parents at the airport early this
week, wondering how to tell them the horrible news.
He couldn't do it when they arrived -- his father, a retired computer
programmer, was too happy, glowing after a two-week trip to Armenia.
So Peter, 31, drove them home to Glendale first and sat them down in
the living room.
"There was a tragic accident in Iraq," he said in their native
Armenian, his voice cracking. "It involved some contractors and Aunt
Maro. She passed away."
Daniel Dishchekenian, 62, repeated his sister's name, Maro. Then he
stared at the floor. After a while, he put his hand over his eyes, and
he began to weep.
Marani "Maro" Ohannes, 48, a mother of three living in Baghdad, was
shot by private security guards Oct. 9 while ferrying neighbors home
from church.
Dishchekenian had not seen his sister, a former scientist for Iraq's
Agriculture Ministry, in almost 30 years. He thought he had time, that
the U.S. invasion would stabilize the country and allow the family to
reunite in their hometown of Basra in the south. Now he's desperate to
rescue Ohannes' three daughters, his brother and another sister from
Iraq before they too become casualties.
"We are working to get them out at any price," he said.
Private security companies in Iraq have been drawing criticism since
employees of Blackwater USA, hired by the U.S. government, opened fire
in a Baghdad square last month, killing 17 Iraqis. Blackwater said its
personnel had come under attack, but Iraqis said the Blackwater guards
began the shooting. The incident is under investigation.
The guards who killed Ohannes were employed by an Australian company
based in the United Arab Emirates, Unity Resources Group, also hired
to protect U.S. contractors.
Daniel Dishchekenian was born in Iraq but considers himself an
Armenian American. As an American citizen, he was stunned to hear that
his sister had been killed to protect a U.S. convoy. He fears the
significance of her death will be lost on most Americans accustomed to
a daily death toll of Iraqis killed in Baghdad.
Ohannes was the baby, the sister he grew up with in a one-room mud
house. Their father, a shoemaker, built the house by hand after he was
forced to flee Turkey in the mass relocations of Armenians in 1915.
She struggled like the rest of her eight siblings to graduate from
college, then stayed home to care for her ailing parents and husband
while other relatives fled the country. Two years ago her husband
died, leaving her to support daughters Nora, 20, Karon, 18, and Alice,
13.
Ohannes never asked for help, Dishchekenian said, but he called and
sent money anyway.
The last time he talked to her on the phone a few months ago, she and
her girls sounded scared.
"They didn't feel safe," he said. "It was not only the security people
but the insurgents. The fear was there always."
Dishchekenian tries to imagine how his sister died. He has seen
photographs of her white 1990 Oldsmobile after the shooting, the
driver's side door dripping with blood. He keeps a copy of the photos
that ran in an Armenian newspaper.
His brother Albert Dishchekenian, 55, and sister Ana Sahak, 53, who
live in Iraq, told him that Ohannes was driving back from church with
a woman riding beside her and two children in the back seat when
security contractors fired a machine gun at them. When Albert
Dishchekenian and Sahak claimed Ohannes' body from police afterward,
it was riddled with bullets. Her passenger Geneva Jalal, 30, also was
killed.
Leedya Sargis, Ohannes' sister-in-law, said the family tried to
contact Unity, but did not receive a response.
Unity contends that the contractors tried to warn Ohannes to stay back
with signs, strobe lights, hand signals and a flare before shooting.