Gang Violence Claimed Man Who Tried to Change

When 15-year-old Armen Petrosyan arrived in east Hollywood from Armenia in 1989, he was thrust into an urban environment where large, long-established street gangs--in this case, Mexican American and Salvadoran--often preyed on a smaller group of new immigrants.

Outnumbered, Petrosyan and two friends formed a defense alliance that grew into the Armenian Power street gang, which at its peak in the mid-1990s had about 120 members.

Petrosyan’s Armenian Power leadership ended about 2 1/2 years ago, when he decided he would get out before he got life in prison or death on the streets, relatives said.

But last May 22, he made a fatal dining choice--he went to his old haunt for a hamburger. Like an old Mafioso mowed down during dinner, Petrosyan was shot dead as he relaxed in the patio area of his favorite Armenian restaurant, Souren’s Deli on Hollywood Boulevard.

On Thursday in Los Angeles Superior Court, an eight-woman, four-man jury convicted Jose Argueta, 17, a member of White Fence, a longtime Latino gang, of first-degree murder and conspiracy to commit murder.

Petrosyan, 27, had not been a specific target but just happened to be seated at the wrong place at the wrong time, authorities say. He was gunned down, they say, in revenge for an act of disrespect earlier that day that did not involve him.

Argueta, a Central American native, faces 50 years to life in prison without the possibility of parole. He is scheduled to be sentenced on Feb. 28.

“This is your classic case of gang warfare and retaliation. There was no other reason to kill Mr. Petrosyan,” said Deputy Dist. Atty. Darrell Mavis, who intends to ask Superior Court Judge Mark V. Mooney to sentence Argueta to life in prison. “The defendant set out on a mission to kill. He talked about how he was going to do a walk-up killing. Then, he executed Mr. Petrosyan.”

As part of his defense, Argueta had claimed that he did not shoot Petrosyan. On Monday jurors watched a videotaped interrogation in which Argueta said that he “gave a mission” to “Sappo,” a new member of White Fence, to carry out the killing.

In the taped police interview, Argueta--who goes by the street name “Lil’ Crazy”--admitted that he not only told Sappo to shoot an Armenian Power member at the modest restaurant, but even told him how to hold the weapon: with the palm of the shooting hand facing down, gang style.

Detectives have never located “Sappo” and say they are unsure if he exists.

According to evidence presented during the four-day trial, bullets fired from a gun found on Argueta shortly after the shooting matched the bullet removed from Petrosyan’s body, and gunpowder residue was found on Argueta’s hands.

Initially, police suspected that Petrosyan was slain in retribution for the killing 17 days earlier of a Latino student at Hoover High School in Glendale, allegedly by Armenian American youths. But they quickly discounted that theory.

“The two killings were not at all related,” said Det. Andrew Teague, a 23-year veteran of the Los Angeles Police Department assigned to Northeast Division, which patrols much of Armenian Power’s territory.

Public Defender Linda Fischer, representing Argueta, presented no witnesses during the brief trial. Most of the time, the 5-foot-3 Argueta sat slumped over, listening to a Spanish-language translator through earphones. The letters “WF,” for White Fence, are tattooed on the base of his head.

Before closing arguments began Tuesday, Mooney reminded jurors that “one who aids and abets is guilty of the crime.”

On the day of his death, Petrosyan slept until noon at his parents’ North Hollywood home, family members said.

Ten miles away, at the corner of Sunset Boulevard and Western Avenue in Hollywood, and roughly an hour before Petrosyan awoke, an unknown member of Armenian Power flashed the gang’s hand sign and pointed a .45-caliber pistol at three members of White Fence, according to court testimony.

It was a major affront to White Fence, which began in Boyle Heights in 1939, and members of the gang’s Hollywood clique quickly plotted revenge, a gang expert testified.

Petrosyan spent the afternoon with his older brother, Arsen. About 4 p.m., he left to eat at Souren’s Deli.

As Petrosyan sat down in the patio, witnesses told police, a member of White Fence walked up slowly, pulled out a Smith & Wesson 9-millimeter semiautomatic handgun and shot him twice, once in the heart.

LAPD officers chased Argueta and arrested him shortly after the shooting when a blue Camaro he was riding in crashed. He was the only suspect arrested in the case.

Although the name Armen Petrosyan may mean little in the Armenian communities of Hollywood and Glendale, a mention of his street name--Silent--brings instant recognition to many.

‘Silent’ Was a Street Legend

Silent was a street legend, an alley fighter renowned for never backing down from a challenge. He earned his nickname because he seldom spoke, but as another Armenian Power member known as Hando told The Times in 1998, “When Silent talked, everybody listened.”

Petrosyan was born in 1973 in Yerevan, the capital of Armenia. He helped form Armenian Power in the late 1980s, when it came to be known as “AP.”

“AP is a gang of Armenians that began in order to protect the Armenian youth population from being preyed upon by Mexican gangs,” said the LAPD’s Teague.

Some longtime Los Angeles-area residents of Armenian descent have said the gang has brought them shame, and they consider it a stain on the community.

In a 1997 interview in prison, where he was serving a two-year sentence for robbery, Petrosyan defended it.

“Look, I know a lot of people don’t like us,” said Petrosyan, then 24. “They say bad things about AP. But, I tell you, when their kids are in trouble, when their kids are getting hurt at school, they call me. They call me and my homeboys and we protect their kids.”

After spending time in jail and prison for robbery and PCP possession, Petrosyan decided he was tired of the gang lifestyle, friends, family members and other gang members say.

“He told me he was sick of living like that and he wanted to settle down and start a family,” said his brother Arsen, 31, adding that Armen had been engaged to be married and the invitations had already been printed.

Outside the downtown Criminal Courts Building courtroom, David Petrosyan, 52, talked about his slain son.

The elder Petrosyan, who makes his living doing marble and tile work, has a hobby of oil painting, but, “I can’t paint Armen,” he said, touching his heart, shaking his head. “Armen’s right here.”

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Times staff writer Twila Decker contributed to this story.