It has been a year since Melita Vrsaljko, a journalist with Faktograf and the Climate Portal, was brutally physically assaulted—first while on assignment filming an illegal waste dump with a colleague, and then again the following day in her own home. Despite the severity of the crime and the fact that it was an attack on a journalist, no one has been convicted to this day, nor has any indictment been filed. Instead of answers and justice, our colleague and her family are faced with institutional inaction and silence from the authorities. We speak with Melita Vrsaljko about this, as well as about the price journalists pay when they dare to tackle topics considered undesirable by those in power.
A year after the attack, what stage is the investigation and the entire case at? Has there been any progress at all, or have you been left to seek justice on your own?
The Zadar Municipal State Attorney’s Office has been conducting a preliminary investigation for a year now, and has not issued a decision on whether to file an indictment or dismiss the criminal complaint. I’m not allowed to disclose details of the investigation. Still, considering the pace at which statements are being taken from those involved, I can only conclude that this case is not very important to them. In parallel, two proceedings are ongoing at the Municipal Court in Zadar. In one proceeding, I’m the defendant, together with the man who, while intoxicated, assaulted me on the street because I was doing my job. He didn’t even show up at the last hearing, nor did he provide any plausible explanation for his absence from court. In the other proceeding, which concerns his daughter, Iva Perić, who came uninvited to my door and started strangling me, I am a witness, and therefore, I have no information about what stage that case is at. At the beginning of January, I gave my testimony in court, but since then, I have received no official information about what happened next.
Have you ever received any official explanation from the State Attorney’s Office or the police as to why no indictment has been filed? Or is silence all you get?
Since the State Attorney’s Office is still conducting preliminary investigations, we cannot predict the outcome of our criminal complaint. What I know, from having covered local issues, is that the Zadar Municipal State Attorney’s Office often continues conducting preliminary investigations for years after receiving a criminal complaint and misses deadlines for issuing decisions. As for the police, they concluded that the attack on me in my own home was a disturbance of public order and peace because the front door of my house was open during the attack, allegedly causing public alarm. So, the police are not charging the attacker for violating the inviolability of the home, assaulting an official person, or engaging in violent behaviour, but rather for disturbing the public. And for them, that’s the end of the story.
Do you have the impression that your case is a matter of simple unprofessionalism or of deliberate political pressure to cover things up?
It’s a combination of both factors. It would be easiest to say, “Let the institutions do their job.” However, I’m not naive — I know where I live and to what extent institutions in this region are intertwined with the ruling caste. It’s also a matter of police ignorance. I’ve had to explain many times that, as a journalist, I have the right to film whatever is visible from public areas, especially if we’re talking about waste dumped in the middle of a populated place. I’ve explained at length the purpose of my assignment, how editorial decisions are made in a newsroom, and that I did nothing wrong. A year later, I still have to stand in court and repeat the same story—that I was doing my job.
Has anyone from the government, Parliament, or relevant ministries ever contacted you, at least to ask how you are, or do they consider the attack on a journalist to be your private problem?
No one has ever contacted me, nor do I expect such a thing. The state only deals with protecting journalists in theory and on paper — in practice, not so much. The state also contributes to creating a hostile atmosphere toward journalists. For example, Prime Minister Andrej Plenković regularly belittles and insults journalists and their work. It’s enough to remember how the relevant minister, Nina Obuljen Koržinek, attacked the excellent journalist Dora Kršul from Telegram simply because she didn’t like what Kršul was writing about her scandals.
How can one expect sincere support from people like that? These are people who either fundamentally don’t understand what journalism and the public interest are or, even worse, know very well the power and importance of journalism and want to silence us out of fear.
Besides, what would we even talk about? Everything they need to know is contained in the police reports and video recordings of my case. I don’t need nice words and empty promises from the minister or anyone in the government; I need the rule of law to function.
How hard is it to keep working after such an experience? Can a journalist in Croatia be truly free?
A journalist is as free as the media outlet they work for—and unfortunately, there are fewer and fewer such outlets. More than my case, I’m concerned about the devastated media landscape in Croatia, where, over the past year, many journalists have lost their jobs and the number of quality media outlets is dwindling. I’ve been working as a journalist for ten years, and the situation has only been getting worse all along, which doesn’t leave much room for optimism.
Do you feel that society has left you alone? Do you feel a sense of solidarity, or has indifference prevailed? Could we all, including our journalistic organisations, have done more?
When it comes to journalistic organisations, I received all the support I could have asked for, and I’m grateful for that. However, that support, as important as it is to me, cannot protect me in this small community where everyone knows—or can very easily find out—where I live, where I go, who I spend time with, etc. I’ve felt the greatest solidarity and empathy from journalists who have gone through similar situations, as well as from colleagues in my newsroom and other media outlets. As for the local community, a portion of people think that I brought this upon myself because I “meddle” where I shouldn’t. That says a lot about how citizens perceive journalists but also about the lack of awareness of what journalism is actually for and what the journalist’s job entails.
What message would you send to your fellow journalists who are afraid to tackle topics that upset local power brokers or those on the national level?
It’s hard to give someone the advice: “Go, cover important topics in a small community because it’s important.” Such advice essentially means you’re knowingly sending someone into a dangerous environment, knowing that they (and their loved ones) will face various pressures, threats, and possibly violence, with a high likelihood that institutions won’t protect them. The fear is understandable. But as George Orwell said, journalism is publishing what someone else doesn’t want published; everything else is public relations. Covering such stories, at least in my case, brings inner fulfilment because these are stories in the public interest. Especially in these times, the world has been sliding into madness at full speed for quite some time now. It’s up to journalists to defend the world of decent and honest citizens and to work in their interest.
If a topic a journalist is covering bothers a politician, it only means that the politician should be afraid of the consequences of what the journalist might uncover.
Looking back, is there anything you would have done differently, or would you do it all the same?
I wouldn’t have done anything differently, nor will I change my work approach because of this case. Our silence and fear would be a victory — a desired outcome — for the attackers who want to silence us, and that’s something I refuse to give them. If such a thing were to happen, I’d consider it my professional and moral defeat.