On Tuesday, October 21, 2025, a Slovak court delivered a verdict that reverberated across Slovakia and beyond: Juraj Cintula, the 72-year-old man who shot and wounded Prime Minister Robert Fico in May 2024, was found guilty of terrorism and sentenced to 21 years in prison. The decision, handed down by the Specialized Criminal Court in Banská Bystrica, marks the conclusion of a trial that has gripped the nation and exposed deep divisions in Slovak society.
The attack itself was as shocking as it was brazen. On May 15, 2024, in the central Slovak town of Handlova, Fico was greeting supporters after a government meeting when Cintula approached and fired five shots from just over a meter away. According to UPI, Fico, then 61, was struck four times—in the abdomen, hip, hand, and foot. He was rushed to a hospital in Banská Bystrica, where he underwent an initial five-hour surgery, followed by a second two-hour operation two days later. The prime minister survived, but the wounds left him with ongoing health problems that persist to this day.
The trial began in July 2025, with the central question being whether Cintula’s actions constituted terrorism or a lesser crime such as attempted murder or an attack on a public official. Cintula, a pensioner, former mine worker, stonemason, writer, and public activist—described by NBC News as a poet and activist—admitted to the shooting. However, he insisted he only wanted to hurt Fico, not kill him, hoping to prevent the prime minister from continuing policies he believed were damaging to Slovak freedom and culture.
"I decided to harm the health of the prime minister but I had no intention to kill anyone," Cintula stated in testimony read by a prosecutor, as reported by NBC News. He further explained his opposition to Fico’s decisions, including the cancellation of a special prosecution office that dealt with corruption, the end of military support for Ukraine, and new cultural policies. Cintula even told police he was relieved to learn Fico had survived the attack.
During the trial, Cintula refused to testify in person but confirmed that his motives, as relayed to investigators, remained unchanged. His defense counsel argued that not every attack on a public official should be classified as terrorism, seeking a lesser sentence. Yet, the court, led by Judge Igor Králik, saw things differently. "The court considers proven that the defendant did not attack a citizen but specifically the prime minister," Králik declared. "He was against the government, he was inciting people to overthrow the government." The panel’s verdict was unanimous.
Prosecutors initially charged Cintula with attempted murder but later upgraded the charge to terrorism, citing evidence obtained during the investigation. While the maximum sentence could have been life imprisonment, the court took into account Cintula’s age and lack of prior criminal record, settling on 21 years. According to UPI, Cintula’s lawyer announced plans to appeal the verdict to Slovakia’s high court. Cintula himself, when leaving court on Tuesday, told reporters, "It was unjust. I will for sure appeal."
The shooting and subsequent trial have shaken Slovakia—a European Union and NATO member—at a time when political tensions are running high. Fico, a divisive figure who has held power for 11 years over three separate stints since 2006, returned to office in 2023 after his leftist Smer (Direction) party won parliamentary elections. His government quickly ended state military assistance to Ukraine, sought closer ties with Moscow, overhauled the public broadcaster, and introduced new criminal codes. Critics, including the liberal opposition, have accused Fico of eroding democratic standards, undermining media freedom, and covering up corruption.
Fico’s policies have drawn thousands of protesters to the streets of Bratislava and other Slovak cities, echoing concerns that Slovakia is drifting away from its pro-Western orientation and following the path of Hungary under Viktor Orbán. European leaders, as noted by UPI, see Fico as an ally of Russian President Vladimir Putin, especially after he halted Ukrainian arms shipments upon regaining power.
The attack on Fico laid bare these societal rifts. In the aftermath, Fico himself blamed the liberal opposition and media for fostering a climate of anger that led to the assassination attempt. "Political confrontation should be resolved by violent means," Fico’s lawyer, David Lindtner, argued, emphasizing the gravity of targeting a sitting prime minister. But opposition figures countered that Fico’s own policies and rhetoric have undermined democracy and heightened tensions.
Initially, government officials described the attack as the work of a "lone wolf." Later, they suggested a third party might have played a role in "acting for the benefit of the perpetrator," though no concrete evidence has surfaced to support this theory. Fico, for his part, has repeatedly said he "had no reason to believe" it was simply the act of a deranged individual, but there remains no proof of broader involvement.
Despite the trauma and the political firestorm, Fico has publicly stated he feels "no hatred" toward his attacker. He has forgiven Cintula and has not pursued legal action against him. The prime minister made his first public appearance a few months after the shooting and returned to work shortly thereafter, though he continues to deal with health complications from his injuries.
Cintula’s actions, by his own admission, were a "scream against fear that is paralyzing the society." Yet, the court’s ruling sends a clear message: violence against elected officials, whatever the motive, will be met with the full force of the law. The sentence, while less than life, reflects both the severity of the crime and the mitigating factors of age and a previously clean record.
As Slovakia processes the aftermath of this historic trial, the divisions that led to the attack remain raw. Fico’s government continues to face fierce opposition at home and scrutiny from abroad. Meanwhile, the story of Juraj Cintula—a pensioner, activist, and now convicted terrorist—serves as a stark reminder of the dangers of political polarization and the fragile state of democracy in Central Europe.
The court’s decision may have closed one chapter, but the debate over Slovakia’s future—and the legacy of this tumultuous period—is far from over.