On December 15, 2025, Serbia’s political and cultural landscape was shaken by the announcement that the Public Prosecutor’s Office for Organized Crime had filed indictments against four prominent officials, including the country’s Minister of Culture, Nikola Selaković. The charges, which also name Secretary of the Ministry of Culture Slavica Jelača, Acting Director of the Republic Institute for the Protection of Cultural Monuments Goran Vasić, and Acting Director of the Institute for the Protection of Cultural Monuments of the City of Belgrade Aleksandar Ivanović, stem from their alleged roles in the controversial removal of cultural heritage protections from the “General Staff” buildings in central Belgrade. The site in question, still scarred from NATO’s 1999 bombing campaign, was at the heart of a planned redevelopment project involving a Trump-branded hotel spearheaded by Jared Kushner.
According to reports from Sloboden Pechat and Dow Jones, the indictment accuses the officials of abuse of official position and forgery of official documents, both serious offenses under Serbian law. The legal action follows months of public outcry, political intrigue, and even unprecedented defiance within Serbia’s own law enforcement ranks.
The roots of the case stretch back to the spring of 2025, when plans emerged for a glitzy new complex—three gleaming towers—on the site of the old General Staff headquarters. The project, backed by Kushner and set to bear the Trump name, promised to transform a painful symbol of Serbia’s recent past into a modern landmark. But the proposal quickly ran into resistance, not least because the buildings had long been protected as cultural monuments, a status that would need to be revoked for redevelopment to proceed.
It was in this context that the now-indicted officials allegedly orchestrated the removal of the site’s protected status. The prosecutor’s office contends that the process was riddled with legal irregularities, including the abuse of official powers and the forging of documents to push the project forward. For many Serbians, the move felt like an assault on national memory, and protests soon erupted in the streets of Belgrade.
The controversy deepened as the investigation unfolded. Notably, when arrest warrants were issued in May 2025 for some of the suspects, the Serbian police—specifically the SBPOK, a special unit—refused to act on the prosecutor’s orders. As reported by NovaS and echoed by Sloboden Pechat, this marked a rare and troubling precedent in the Serbian justice system, raising questions about the independence of law enforcement and the reach of political influence.
Amid mounting scrutiny, Minister Selaković was summoned to give a statement to prosecutors. But rather than comply immediately, he reportedly dismissed the summons on national television, mocking the judicial process. The prosecution responded by instructing police to bring him in, but Selaković ultimately appeared voluntarily—albeit after hours and accompanied by a friendly media crew. On December 4, he was finally questioned, with his lawyer Vladimir Djukanović at his side.
Emerging from the prosecutor’s office, Selaković did not mince words. He accused the prosecution of acting on political motives and attempting to destabilize the government. “This is a blockade gang that is trying to overthrow the government in an illegal way, hiding behind jurisdiction. They are like an autoimmune disease in Serbia—they are destroying what is legal and democratic in our society. Their goal is to make democracy meaningless, so that citizens can no longer decide anything in elections, but rather in some centers of power, alienated from the people, decisions are made for them,” Selaković declared, as quoted by Sloboden Pechat. He insisted that such efforts would not succeed in Serbia, crediting the nation’s resilience and its “serious statesman” at the helm.
For his part, Goran Vasić, one of the indicted directors, reportedly told prosecutors that he felt pressured by Selaković to comply with the minister’s wishes. “If I may say it in layman’s terms: the ministerial position cannot be refused,” Vasić explained during interrogation, according to Sloboden Pechat. This assertion only fueled speculation about the extent to which political hierarchy and personal loyalty may have influenced the decision to strip the General Staff buildings of their protected status.
Meanwhile, the international dimension of the case added further intrigue. The redevelopment project, which would have brought a Trump-branded hotel to the symbolic heart of Belgrade, was championed by Jared Kushner, son-in-law of former U.S. President Donald Trump. As Dow Jones reported, the indictment and the surrounding protests prompted Kushner to withdraw from the project. The development’s collapse was seen by many as a victory for local activists and preservationists, but it also left lingering questions about Serbia’s openness to foreign investment and the balance between modernization and memory.
Observers across the political spectrum have weighed in. Supporters of the government argue that the project represented a necessary step toward revitalizing Belgrade and attracting international capital. They contend that the legal case is politically motivated, designed to undermine President Aleksandar Vučić’s administration and stoke anti-Western sentiment. Critics, on the other hand, see the indictment as a long-overdue reckoning with systemic abuse of power and a defense of Serbia’s cultural heritage. They point to the police’s earlier refusal to execute arrest warrants as evidence of deep-rooted problems within the state apparatus.
The “General Staff” case has thus become a flashpoint in Serbia’s ongoing struggle to define its national identity and chart a course between past and future. It has exposed rifts within the government, the judiciary, and the broader public—rifts that echo the scars left by war and the challenges of democratic transition.
As the legal process unfolds, all eyes remain on the indicted officials and the fate of the historic site at the center of the storm. The prosecution has signaled that its investigation is not over, hinting at possible further charges against other individuals involved in the affair. For now, the General Staff buildings stand as both a monument to Serbia’s turbulent history and a symbol of the debates shaping its future.
The outcome of the case will likely reverberate far beyond Belgrade, influencing not only the city’s skyline but also the country’s political climate and its relationship with the wider world. Whether the proceedings will deliver justice, accountability, or simply deepen existing divisions remains to be seen. But one thing is clear: the battle over Belgrade’s past, present, and future is far from over.
