There are political arguments, and then there are court documents. For Democratic Party MP Valentina Minić, the difference matters enormously. In a sharply worded public response to lawyer Veselin Radulović, Minić accused him of “playing the victim” together with high-ranking DPS officials, the police cartel, and fraudsters. She was responding to what appears to be a series of accusations or legal complaints from Radulović, who has positioned himself as a defender of legality and a critic of the current Montenegrin authorities. But Minić would have none of it. She insisted that the controversy was never about insults or slander, but about a documented verdict. “Radulović, do not play the victim,” she wrote. “The verdict is not an insult. The verdict is not slander. The verdict is a document.” She promised to deliver the ruling to the media so that the whole country could see, in her words, “what kind of fraudster is giving lectures on legality.” The MP also rejected the idea that her side had engaged in name-calling. Instead, she said, they had simply asked whether Radulović stole 89 tires. It is a question that sounds almost absurd, but she insisted it has a clear answer written in an official court judgment. In her framing, this is not a personal attack dressed up as politics; it is an uncomfortable truth wrapped in a legal file. By turning the debate back to the document, she tried to shift the ground from emotion to evidence. The public, she believes, should weigh Radulović’s moral lectures against his own past, as confirmed by a court of law.
The specifics of the case, as Minić presented them, are both detailed and bizarre. According to the verdict, while Radulović was a police inspector during the era of the Democratic Party of Socialists, he acted without the approval of his superior. Identifying himself as a police officer, he participated in the handover of car tires between private individuals in order to settle a private debt. He signed the minutes on the transfer of 80 or 89 tires, worth 12,000 German marks and 127,244.55 dinars. The court concluded that instead of conducting official work on solving a criminal offense for which he was responsible, Radulović was helping resolve a private civil-legal relationship. He did not inform his superior, and he did not produce any official notes. For that conduct, the court found him guilty of behavior that harms the reputation of the police service and of activities incompatible with official duties. The consequence was severe: he was ordered to terminate his employment. The image is striking and almost absurd: a police inspector, using the weight of his badge, overseeing a private tire transaction to settle a debt. It is not the stuff of high crime, but it is exactly the kind of small-scale abuse of power that corrodes public trust. Minić clearly knows how potent this image is. She repeats the “89 tires” detail like a refrain, using it to puncture Radulović’s self-image as a moral authority. She says that the verdict is not a matter of interpretation; it is a fact. And she wants the public to read it and understand that the man now speaking so confidently about legality once used his official position for a personal errand involving tires, private debt, and a signature on a handover form. It is the kind of detail that does not fade from memory, no matter how many legal complaints a person files.
Having established the facts as she sees them, Minić widened her attack to a broader political hypocrisy. She said that Radulović, the man who was ready to compromise the police function for a combination with 89 tires, now presents himself as the supreme prosecutor, judge, and moral arbiter of Montenegro. The contrast, in her telling, is absurd. She also connected Radulović to the DPS system and to police officers who have been removed or suspended during a process she describes as the cleansing of the police. “Similar people rejoice in similar things,” she said, accusing Radulović and his allies of defending those who were cast out for misconduct. For her, the problem is a police officer associated with crime. But for Radulović and the DPS, she argued, the problem is that such an officer can no longer be a police officer. This is a crucial distinction. It suggests that the opposition is not interested in integrity, but in protecting its own people. Minić framed the police reforms as a genuine battle against corruption, not a political vendetta. The people who were removed from the force were not innocent victims; they were, in her words, criminals, fraudsters, and their helpers. By defending them, Radulović revealed his true loyalties. She said that similar people rejoice in similar things—a cutting accusation that Radulović sees himself in the disgraced officers and therefore cannot stand to see them punished. In human terms, she is saying that he is not an impartial observer. He is a participant in the old system, and his outrage is really anxiety about his own reflection. The moral high ground he claims is, in her view, a stage prop. The court already judged him once, and she believes that judgment defines him still.
The conflict, however, did not stay in the realm of police misconduct. Minić went further, accusing Radulović and his political allies of constructing a broader conspiracy involving international relations. She said it was incredible how far he was willing to go, together with high-ranking DPS officials and the police cartel, in an attempt to politically discredit people who break up criminal structures. Specifically, she referenced “constructions” that link serious accusations to a deal between the state of Montenegro and the Republic of France. According to Minić, Radulović was claiming that France corrupted Montenegrin ministers. She rejected this outright, noting that the French ambassador had clearly said that “every brick in that deal is clean.” This is a significant escalation. A dispute about tires and police discipline suddenly became a matter of international diplomacy and high-level corruption allegations. Minić seems to see this as a deliberate diversion strategy. When the substance of police reform is difficult to attack, you attack the allies and partners involved in the reform. By claiming that France corrupted Montenegrin officials, Radulović was not just trying to save his own reputation; he was trying to taint the entire reform process and undermine Montenegro’s relationships with foreign partners. Minić used the phrase “cheap substitution of theses” to describe this tactic. Instead of answering for his own past, Radulović was constructing a parallel story of international conspiracy. She clearly finds this both outrageous and desperate. The French ambassador’s statement, as she cited it, served as a blunt institutional rebuttal. In human terms, Minić’s message is: you can go from 89 tires to accusing France of corruption, but that does not make your story true. It just makes it bigger, and no less false. She invites the public to notice the absurdity: a man who once used his police badge to settle a private debt now weaves narratives about foreign governments corrupting Montenegrin ministers. For Minić, this is not courage; it is a last resort.
Minić closed her response with a direct challenge. She told Radulović and the DPS officials to “continue freely,” but she promised that her side would not stop either. “You write reports,” she said. “The authorities will continue to cleanse the police of criminals, fraudsters and their helpers. And for every false report, you will receive a response from the institutions.” This is a warning, but also a declaration of confidence. She is saying that the state is now strong enough to push back. The time when a police badge could be worn together with 89 tires is over, she declared. Then came the final, cutting sentence: Radulović belongs, still, to the DPS system he belonged to before. Even if he is no longer a police inspector, even if he presents himself as an independent lawyer, she sees him as part of the old political machinery. That system, she implies, is the real enemy. It allowed police officers to use their badges for personal favors, protected those who were caught, and then had the audacity to demand moral respect. Minić’s “continue freely” sounds almost generous, but it is really a dare. She is inviting Radulović to keep filing complaints and making accusations, because each one will be met with an institutional answer. For every false report, there will be a response. This is a powerful rhetorical move because it places the burden on the accuser. Radulović, in her telling, is no longer the victim. He is the one being held accountable, not by an angry politician, but by the impersonal machinery of state institutions. She speaks as though the cleansing of the police is an unstoppable process, and those who stand against it will simply be documented, refuted, and dismissed. There is no regret in her tone, only certainty. For Minić, the era of impunity is finished, and the sooner Radulović and the DPS understand that, the better.
At its core, this political confrontation is not only about one man and his past. It is about the deeper question of who gets to claim legitimacy in Montenegro’s public life. Minić has turned the confrontation into a parable of institutional reform. The 89 tires are not just a strange detail from an old disciplinary case; they are a symbol of the old way of doing things, when a police badge could be used to resolve private affairs, when signatures were given without official notes, and when the reputation of the service was less important than personal connections. Radulović, she argues, has not changed with the times. He still defends the system that produced him, and he still expects to be treated as an authority despite his own record. Minić’s response is deliberately factual, almost bureaucratic in its insistence on documents and verdicts. She knows that in political battles, a single embarrassing fact can be worth more than a thousand accusations. The strange image of a police inspector supervising a tire handover for a private debt is memorable, human, and almost sad. It suggests a person cutting corners for some personal benefit, perhaps not out of greed but out of entanglement. Yet the court found that it harmed the reputation of the police, and that finding now follows Radulović. Minić wants the public to remember that finding whenever Radulović speaks about legality, corruption, or morality. She also wants the public to trust institutions again. By promising that every false report will receive a response, she signals that the state is no longer passive. There is a willingness to engage, to investigate, and to reply. Whether citizens agree with her politics or not, her central challenge is difficult to evade: read the verdict. Look at the signature. Follow the paper trail. In a country where political discourse often descends into shouting, she has chosen to wave a court document and ask people to look closely. That is the human story behind her anger: a belief that the truth, however awkward, is still the best weapon in a political fight. And for Veselin Radulović, the truth, as she tells it, begins with 89 tires.