In the often turbulent and theatrically charged arena of Montenegrin politics, the air has grown thick with accusations, counter-accusations, and the unmistakable clash of institutional swords. The latest skirmish erupted when Veselin Radulović, a prominent lawyer with a contentious past, formally lodged a criminal complaint with the Special State Prosecutor’s Office, targeting the Democratic Party of Socialists’ rivals—the Democrats—alongside Interior Minister Danilo Šaranović and other high-ranking officials within the Ministry of Interior and the Police Directorate. Radulović’s grievances hinge on allegations of unlawful interference in the employment process, specifically claiming that the Democrats and these state officials arbitrarily and illegally blocked the hiring of a man named Ognjen Đurđić into the police ranks. This legal maneuver, however, has done anything but intimidate the leadership of the Democrats. Instead, it has unleashed a torrent of defiant rhetoric, signaling that the party views this lawsuit not as a legitimate legal challenge, but as another salvo in a long-running political war waged by the remnants of the old regime. The Democratic Party of Socialists (DPS), which held an iron grip on Montenegro’s power structures for decades, has been in opposition since 2020, and this latest confrontation represents another battlefront in the ongoing struggle to control the narrative of state corruption and institutional reform.
Responding with a ferocity that left little room for diplomatic nuance, Dragan Krapović, the Vice President of the Democrats, painted Radulović’s actions as the last desperate gasps of a dying criminal ecosystem. He insisted that his party would not retreat from Radulović, the DPS, the police cartels, or even the “hundreds of fabricated reports” that he claims are being flung against them. For Krapović, this is not merely a legal dispute; it is a systematic smear campaign designed to stall the momentum of a government that has promised to purge the security sector of deep-seated corruption. He described the recent filings as a “hyperproduction of false criminal reports,” a chaotic yet transparent spectacle aimed at delegitimizing the current administration. In his view, the sheer volume of these accusations betrays a lack of genuine substance, suggesting instead a frantic, panicked attempt to shield entrenched interests from the light of official scrutiny. He openly invited the prosecution to wade into the messy allegations and determine definitively who is speaking the truth, who is fabricating evidence, and who is trying to camouflage a failing political dynasty under a veneer of persecuted innocence. The challenge was direct: let the institutional process reveal the reality of who is lecturing the public about legality when their own hands are stained with questionable dealings.
The most scathing and personal component of Krapović’s rebuttal involved digging directly into Radulović’s professional history, exposing what he perceives as a glaring hypocrisy at the core of the lawyer’s crusade. Krapović revealed that Radulović was not merely a critic of the police force but had actually been expelled from it under a cloud of shame. Allegedly, while serving as an inspector within the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Radulović committed an act of fraud involving car tires—a petty, grubby crime that earned him the dismissive nickname “Gumar” (The Tire Guy) within certain circles. His dismissal was appealed, but the court system ultimately upheld the ministry’s decision, confirming that the fraudulent activity had indeed occurred. Krapović wielded this historical fact like a blunt instrument, arguing that a man whose law enforcement career ended in disgrace over tire-related theft has no moral standing to lecture the authorities on ethical conduct. The irony is biting: Radulović, who purportedly claims to be fighting for justice and fairness in police hiring, is himself a proven cheat who was cast out of the very institution he now seeks to police from the outside. By highlighting this deeply intimate and embarrassing piece of backstory, Krapović aims to dismantle Radulović’s credibility entirely, framing him not as a whistleblower but as a bitter, disgraced former insider nursing old grudges.
Beyond the personal attacks, Krapović articulated a much broader and more sinister theory regarding the motivations behind these legal actions. He firmly stated that the party has substantial reason to believe Radulović is not a “lone wolf” or an isolated activist, but rather a pawn within a highly organized structure comprising senior officials from the DPS, remnants of what he terms the “former police criminal cartel,” and their assorted loyalists. The vision Krapović projects is one of a coordinated counter-offensive, where the old guard, feeling the pressure of criminal investigations and institutional shake-ups, is unleashing a wave of legal harassment. The goal, he asserts, is to wage a political war against the Democrats using false reports as ammunition, precisely because the competent authorities are successfully dismantling their criminal strongholds and cleansing the security sector of decades-old corruption. He frames the entire situation as a classic struggle between a desperate old network fighting for survival and a determined new administration intent on establishing rule of law. This narrative positions the Democrats as the brave reformers taking on powerful, shadowy interests, while portraying the DPS and its allies as the mafiosi scrambling to protect their territory from being raided by the very law enforcement they once controlled.
Krapović then turned his focus to the psychological underpinnings of Radulović’s fervent advocacy, offering a cynical yet compelling explanation for why the lawyer defends this “world” with such vigor. Using a searing analogy, he suggested that it is entirely natural for a small-time fraudster to be more perturbed by the police officers who arrest serious criminals than by the criminals themselves. For Krapović, Radulović’s identity is inextricably linked to his past failings; his career ended not due to political persecution but due to undeniable petty theft. Therefore, his current animosity toward the police is born not out of a pursuit of justice, but out of a perceived solidarity with those who operate outside the law. The implication is that Radulović sees his own reflection in the criminals—individuals who have escaped accountability—and resents the forces of order that remind him of his own fall from grace. Yet, Krapović’s tone toward Radulović is not one of fear or anxiety; it is one of almost dismissive contempt. He warns Radulović that he has “the wrong address” if he hopes to intimidate them. The leadership of the Democrats has weathered electoral storms and political assassinations; they will not yield to a barrage of legal filings from a man nicknamed for his tire scam. The message was unequivocal: continue writing your false reports, but we will continue our crackdown on actual crime and support the true, untainted fighters against corruption.
Concluding his statement, Krapović delivered a resounding proclamation of the state’s ultimate supremacy over organized crime, issuing a bold warning that echoed far beyond the immediate dispute. He acknowledged the panic and nervousness that now seems to grip the opposition and their alleged allies, suggesting that this desperation is a precursor to their final, inevitable defeat. His rhetoric reached a crescendo with the powerful assertion that “no one will ever be stronger than the state,” serving as a stark reminder that the institutions of Montenegro, now ostensibly under the control of reformers, possess the full weight of legal and coercive power. He concluded with the vivid, cinematic line that “the mafia has played its part, the state now dictates the pace,” signaling a definitive shift in the balance of power. This is more than just a defense against a single lawsuit; it is a declaration of victory in a broader cultural and political conflict. For the Democrats, this moment is about restoring faith in public institutions and stripping away the shadows under which crime flourished for generations. While the legal battle over Ognjen Đurđić’s employment will play out in the courts, the political battle is already being projected onto a much larger canvas. Krapović’s fiery rhetoric serves as a rallying cry to the party faithful, a warning to the old guard that their time is over, and a message to the public that the Democratic Party views itself as the immovable bulwark against the return of cronyism, committed to the long and arduous task of scrubbing the state clean, no matter how many suits, complaints, or controversies are thrown in their path. The gauntlet has been thrown, and for the Democrats, there is no retreat—only victory or defeat, and they have sworn only to accept the former.