Vlasta Maksimovich
14-04-2004, 08:20 AM
http://www.mitropolijadabrobosanska.org/foto_dokumentacija.htm
UNOFFICIAL TRANSLATION
The Information Service of the Serbian Orthodox Church
April 6, 2004
TESTIMONY OF VITORKA STAROVLAH,
WIFE OF FATHER JEREMIJA
Zvornik, April 6, 2004
During the night between Wednesday, March 31 and Thursday, April 1,
2004 at approximately 01,00 o'clock after midnight we were awoken by
the ringing of the telephone, which frightened us, since no one calls
us at that time of the night. Because our younger son was away on a
trip, I immediately grew concerned that something might have happened
to him and so I awoke my husband, who was sound asleep. He headed
toward the telephone, which is located in the living room. I heard
some kind of stirring about during those moments but I could not
identify since I had just been awoken. Perhaps it was some noise from
outside, perhaps the sound of helicopters or vehicles, I cannot say
for sure. As Aco (diminutive of Aleksandar) and I stood in the
hallway, we heard a powerful blast and there were lights all around us
and some gunshots could also be heard. I told Aleksandar to take
shelter. I heard Jeremija (Jeremiah) saying to someone from the
kitchen: "We will open the door for you! Why are you doing this!" When
I saw a soldier crossing Aleksandar's room toward us, I momentarily
ducked into the bedroom. A soldier wearing a dark green uniform forced
his way in after me, slammed the door and with a gun pointed at me
said: "Sit down!" (in English). Immediately afterward terrible yelling
and shouting by the soldiers could be heard and at almost the same
time Jeremiah's loud cries. I did not hear my son. Jeremija's cries
were painful and terrible and he said: "Let me go! What are you doing
to me!" But they continued shouting at him. At times Jeremija sobbed
softly and then his cries and screams would grow louder. And he begged
them. I could not bear to listen to Jeremija's cries, they were
tearing me apart and so I turned toward the soldier who once again
shouted: "Sit down!" (in English) Another soldier wearing the same
uniform half-opened the bedroom door and glanced toward me. As I was
kneeling in front of the soldier begging him to allow me to see my
husband, when I looked I saw next to his feet the motionless head of
my son on the hall floor. I then begged and entreated through tears
that they let me go or kill me. During this entire time Jeremija was
weeping and screaming at them to let him go. At one point the soldier,
having apparently grown tired, put his boot on the bed and,e keeping
the gun pointed at me, stared at the ceiling, paying no attention at
all to my entreaties. At one point I heard the sound of a device that
reminded me of an electroshock device. First I heard a flat sound and
then interrupted sounds on the basis of which I concluded that they
were trying to renimate Aco. Then I heard the sound of a helicopter
and I begged God that they would transfer them to the hospital as
quickly as possible. Jeremija's cries did not stop. I could still hear
him when they took him out. The alarm clock in the bedroom gave the
time as 2,15.
Father Jeremija Starovlah and his son Aleksandar are receiving
treatment in Tuzla Hospital for injuries inflicted by SFOR
When the sound of the helicopter grew more distant, an armed soldier
in a camouflage uniform stepped in. I do not remember what he said to
me but I concluded that he was speaking in a language like Serbian. I
begged him to tell me why they had tortured my husband and killed my
son. I also asked him whether he had a mother and what did he think
her reaction would be if she saw her motionless son lying on the floor
while a foreign soldier refused to allow her to see him. He did not
respond; he just shrugged his shoulders and said something like: "We
no shoot" (in Serbian). I answered: "What did you use to kill them,
then?" He then asked me who was living in my house and he told me to
write down all the names and ages. Although my hands were shaking I
quickly did as he asked, thinking that it was something they urgently
needed to take care of them. He asked something like: "Who this to
you?" (in Serbian) and, pointing to the names, "Who this, and who
this?" I answered that these were my husband and son and I pointed to
my name, too. I asked him where they had taken them and if they were
alive. He answered that they had been taken to Sarajevo Hospital and
that they were alive, and that in two hours he would come to get me so
I could go and see them for myself. Then the soldier left with the
others and a woman came in in a camouflage uniform with a man who
introduced himself as the translator. I was still kneeling in the
bedroom at the foot of the bed and, clutching a cross and a prayer
book, I was praying to God. The translator asked me how I was. I cried
and said: "My son is dead! Why did they kill him when he wouldn't hurt
a fly!" I don't know why but I did not ask about my husband at that
point. Probably because I had heard his cries and thus I hoped that he
would still be alive. This girl kept repeating: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry"
(in English) and it seemed to me that she really was sorry. Kneeling
beside me, she took her own prayer book from her back pack and some
sort of talisman, a small icon or a cross - I'm not sure what it was -
and she prayed with me. Shortly afterward I hurried to the iconostasis
in the living room. She followed me. I tried to light the icon lamp
but my hands were shaking so much it was impossible to do so. Then she
took a match and lit the icon lamp. Then I censed the icons in the
house and prayed in front of the icon of Our Lord, the icon of the
Most Holy Mother of God, in front of the icon of St. Nicholas, our
patron saint and in front of St. Sava. The girl stood in front of the
icons with me for a time, then she asked if she should stay with me
some more or if I wished to call any friends. I answered that I did
not need anyone right now and that I wanted to be alone with God in
prayer for my son and husband. She left but first the translator told
me that "my" police would be coming soon to prepare a report. After
that I was alone and, with a cross in my hand, I headed down the hall.
In the corner on the left side between a small lavatory and the
kitchen, I found a pool of blood. I bent over and saw there were also
tufts of hair. I knew that Jeremija had been slammed into that corner.
The walls were splattered with blood all around. Between the wall and
the wardrobe in the hall next to Aco's room one could see he had been
crushed there. I also saw some sort of masks and some tubes. All
covered in blood. The surrounding walls were the same. The house was
destroyed. With a feeling of despair and helplessness I heard the
hysterical laughter of some soldiers who were still standing in the
hallway of the building. When I heard them I began to despise them.
But I quickly recovered and begged God to expel all the hate from my
heart lest He withhold His mercy toward Jeremija and Aco. I said, may
God forgive them for they know not what they are doing. Then I
telephoned my younger son who was abroad on a business trip. I told
him that something terrible had happened and that he had to return
right away. I explained what had happened and he asked several times:
"But why, mother?" I answered that I did not know. Shortly afterwards
I no longer could hear the soldiers but two men entered the house,
that is, the bedroom, one of them in a police uniform and the other in
plain clothes. It was between 4,30 and 5,00. The one in plain clothes
introduced himself but I cannot remember how. He asked me if we had
offered any resistance. Shocked by his question, I replied: "What
resistance? We were awoken from our sleep, in our pajamas." They told
me the police would now come to secure the location and prepare a
report. At about 5,00 o'clock I called the monastery of Dobrun. Father
Mihajlo answered the phone; I explained what had happened to him and I
asked the brotherhood to pray. I was looking at the clock and waiting
for the soldier to come back and take me to see Jeremija and
Aleksandar. He did not appear; at about 6,30 the telephone rang. It
was a man by the name of Mithat or something like that - I am not sure
- who also told me the name of the news agency he worked for. The call
was from Sarajevo. I concluded that from the fact that even on the
fixed phone the caller's number was displayed. He asked me if I had
been contacted by SFOR and whether I knew where my son and husband
were. I answered that I did not know but that a soldier had told me
that they had been transferred to Sarajevo and that I was waiting for
him to take me there. Then the man told me that he had called SFOR and
that he had asked them whether they had informed the family; the
response that he got from the other side was: "Sure, sure, we'll
inform them." And he also told me that he had found out that they were
in Tuzla Hospital, that they were alive and he gave me the telephone
number of the hospital. I was grateful to him for that. He asked me
whether I also had a daughter. I answered: "No, I have another son."
"It's good that he wasn't there," the man said. "He could have gone
through the same thing." I called the hospital and introduced myself.
Then one of the physicians told me they had received some seriously
injured persons in critical condition but that they had no idea who
they were. He told me that SFOR forces had brought them at about 3,00
o'clock and dumped them in the hospital like sacks. When asked by the
physician who the two men were, the soldiers replied: "John Doe 1" and
"John Doe 2". He also told me that they had thought that there had
been a serious traffic accident and that the information I gave them
was the first they had heard about them.
Father Jeremija Starovlah in Tuzla Hospital because of SFOR's
brutality
Aleksandar Starovlah, Father Jeremija's son, presently in Tuzla
Hospital next to his father because of SFOR's brutality
I was informed that their admission had been video taped and that the
tapes are stored in the office for public relations of the University
Clinical Center in Tuzla.
Our Metropolitan Nikolai had arrived in the courtyard of our church by
about 5,00 but he was not allowed to enter our home because of the
police investigation.
Vitorka Starovlah
UNOFFICIAL TRANSLATION
The Information Service of the Serbian Orthodox Church
April 6, 2004
TESTIMONY OF VITORKA STAROVLAH,
WIFE OF FATHER JEREMIJA
Zvornik, April 6, 2004
During the night between Wednesday, March 31 and Thursday, April 1,
2004 at approximately 01,00 o'clock after midnight we were awoken by
the ringing of the telephone, which frightened us, since no one calls
us at that time of the night. Because our younger son was away on a
trip, I immediately grew concerned that something might have happened
to him and so I awoke my husband, who was sound asleep. He headed
toward the telephone, which is located in the living room. I heard
some kind of stirring about during those moments but I could not
identify since I had just been awoken. Perhaps it was some noise from
outside, perhaps the sound of helicopters or vehicles, I cannot say
for sure. As Aco (diminutive of Aleksandar) and I stood in the
hallway, we heard a powerful blast and there were lights all around us
and some gunshots could also be heard. I told Aleksandar to take
shelter. I heard Jeremija (Jeremiah) saying to someone from the
kitchen: "We will open the door for you! Why are you doing this!" When
I saw a soldier crossing Aleksandar's room toward us, I momentarily
ducked into the bedroom. A soldier wearing a dark green uniform forced
his way in after me, slammed the door and with a gun pointed at me
said: "Sit down!" (in English). Immediately afterward terrible yelling
and shouting by the soldiers could be heard and at almost the same
time Jeremiah's loud cries. I did not hear my son. Jeremija's cries
were painful and terrible and he said: "Let me go! What are you doing
to me!" But they continued shouting at him. At times Jeremija sobbed
softly and then his cries and screams would grow louder. And he begged
them. I could not bear to listen to Jeremija's cries, they were
tearing me apart and so I turned toward the soldier who once again
shouted: "Sit down!" (in English) Another soldier wearing the same
uniform half-opened the bedroom door and glanced toward me. As I was
kneeling in front of the soldier begging him to allow me to see my
husband, when I looked I saw next to his feet the motionless head of
my son on the hall floor. I then begged and entreated through tears
that they let me go or kill me. During this entire time Jeremija was
weeping and screaming at them to let him go. At one point the soldier,
having apparently grown tired, put his boot on the bed and,e keeping
the gun pointed at me, stared at the ceiling, paying no attention at
all to my entreaties. At one point I heard the sound of a device that
reminded me of an electroshock device. First I heard a flat sound and
then interrupted sounds on the basis of which I concluded that they
were trying to renimate Aco. Then I heard the sound of a helicopter
and I begged God that they would transfer them to the hospital as
quickly as possible. Jeremija's cries did not stop. I could still hear
him when they took him out. The alarm clock in the bedroom gave the
time as 2,15.
Father Jeremija Starovlah and his son Aleksandar are receiving
treatment in Tuzla Hospital for injuries inflicted by SFOR
When the sound of the helicopter grew more distant, an armed soldier
in a camouflage uniform stepped in. I do not remember what he said to
me but I concluded that he was speaking in a language like Serbian. I
begged him to tell me why they had tortured my husband and killed my
son. I also asked him whether he had a mother and what did he think
her reaction would be if she saw her motionless son lying on the floor
while a foreign soldier refused to allow her to see him. He did not
respond; he just shrugged his shoulders and said something like: "We
no shoot" (in Serbian). I answered: "What did you use to kill them,
then?" He then asked me who was living in my house and he told me to
write down all the names and ages. Although my hands were shaking I
quickly did as he asked, thinking that it was something they urgently
needed to take care of them. He asked something like: "Who this to
you?" (in Serbian) and, pointing to the names, "Who this, and who
this?" I answered that these were my husband and son and I pointed to
my name, too. I asked him where they had taken them and if they were
alive. He answered that they had been taken to Sarajevo Hospital and
that they were alive, and that in two hours he would come to get me so
I could go and see them for myself. Then the soldier left with the
others and a woman came in in a camouflage uniform with a man who
introduced himself as the translator. I was still kneeling in the
bedroom at the foot of the bed and, clutching a cross and a prayer
book, I was praying to God. The translator asked me how I was. I cried
and said: "My son is dead! Why did they kill him when he wouldn't hurt
a fly!" I don't know why but I did not ask about my husband at that
point. Probably because I had heard his cries and thus I hoped that he
would still be alive. This girl kept repeating: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry"
(in English) and it seemed to me that she really was sorry. Kneeling
beside me, she took her own prayer book from her back pack and some
sort of talisman, a small icon or a cross - I'm not sure what it was -
and she prayed with me. Shortly afterward I hurried to the iconostasis
in the living room. She followed me. I tried to light the icon lamp
but my hands were shaking so much it was impossible to do so. Then she
took a match and lit the icon lamp. Then I censed the icons in the
house and prayed in front of the icon of Our Lord, the icon of the
Most Holy Mother of God, in front of the icon of St. Nicholas, our
patron saint and in front of St. Sava. The girl stood in front of the
icons with me for a time, then she asked if she should stay with me
some more or if I wished to call any friends. I answered that I did
not need anyone right now and that I wanted to be alone with God in
prayer for my son and husband. She left but first the translator told
me that "my" police would be coming soon to prepare a report. After
that I was alone and, with a cross in my hand, I headed down the hall.
In the corner on the left side between a small lavatory and the
kitchen, I found a pool of blood. I bent over and saw there were also
tufts of hair. I knew that Jeremija had been slammed into that corner.
The walls were splattered with blood all around. Between the wall and
the wardrobe in the hall next to Aco's room one could see he had been
crushed there. I also saw some sort of masks and some tubes. All
covered in blood. The surrounding walls were the same. The house was
destroyed. With a feeling of despair and helplessness I heard the
hysterical laughter of some soldiers who were still standing in the
hallway of the building. When I heard them I began to despise them.
But I quickly recovered and begged God to expel all the hate from my
heart lest He withhold His mercy toward Jeremija and Aco. I said, may
God forgive them for they know not what they are doing. Then I
telephoned my younger son who was abroad on a business trip. I told
him that something terrible had happened and that he had to return
right away. I explained what had happened and he asked several times:
"But why, mother?" I answered that I did not know. Shortly afterwards
I no longer could hear the soldiers but two men entered the house,
that is, the bedroom, one of them in a police uniform and the other in
plain clothes. It was between 4,30 and 5,00. The one in plain clothes
introduced himself but I cannot remember how. He asked me if we had
offered any resistance. Shocked by his question, I replied: "What
resistance? We were awoken from our sleep, in our pajamas." They told
me the police would now come to secure the location and prepare a
report. At about 5,00 o'clock I called the monastery of Dobrun. Father
Mihajlo answered the phone; I explained what had happened to him and I
asked the brotherhood to pray. I was looking at the clock and waiting
for the soldier to come back and take me to see Jeremija and
Aleksandar. He did not appear; at about 6,30 the telephone rang. It
was a man by the name of Mithat or something like that - I am not sure
- who also told me the name of the news agency he worked for. The call
was from Sarajevo. I concluded that from the fact that even on the
fixed phone the caller's number was displayed. He asked me if I had
been contacted by SFOR and whether I knew where my son and husband
were. I answered that I did not know but that a soldier had told me
that they had been transferred to Sarajevo and that I was waiting for
him to take me there. Then the man told me that he had called SFOR and
that he had asked them whether they had informed the family; the
response that he got from the other side was: "Sure, sure, we'll
inform them." And he also told me that he had found out that they were
in Tuzla Hospital, that they were alive and he gave me the telephone
number of the hospital. I was grateful to him for that. He asked me
whether I also had a daughter. I answered: "No, I have another son."
"It's good that he wasn't there," the man said. "He could have gone
through the same thing." I called the hospital and introduced myself.
Then one of the physicians told me they had received some seriously
injured persons in critical condition but that they had no idea who
they were. He told me that SFOR forces had brought them at about 3,00
o'clock and dumped them in the hospital like sacks. When asked by the
physician who the two men were, the soldiers replied: "John Doe 1" and
"John Doe 2". He also told me that they had thought that there had
been a serious traffic accident and that the information I gave them
was the first they had heard about them.
Father Jeremija Starovlah in Tuzla Hospital because of SFOR's
brutality
Aleksandar Starovlah, Father Jeremija's son, presently in Tuzla
Hospital next to his father because of SFOR's brutality
I was informed that their admission had been video taped and that the
tapes are stored in the office for public relations of the University
Clinical Center in Tuzla.
Our Metropolitan Nikolai had arrived in the courtyard of our church by
about 5,00 but he was not allowed to enter our home because of the
police investigation.
Vitorka Starovlah