Blood in the Feed: The Horrific Sick Mind Of Nermin Sulejmanović

The Monster of Gradačac — How Nermin Sulejmanović Turned Instagram into a Killing Floor

It began like any other toxic spiral—threats, rage, and explosive jealousy building inside a man who believed violence was his right. In Gradačac, Bosnia, Nermin Sulejmanović was a known figure: a volatile bodybuilder with a troubled history involving law enforcement. Yet, no reputation could brace the community for the horrifying events that would transpire on August 11, 2023. On that fateful day, he transformed Instagram Live into a grim stage for death—a disturbing act that would forever mark the social media landscape.

It began like any other toxic control spiral—years of whispered threats, rage bottled up in a man who believed violence was not only an option but a right. For those in the Bosnian town of Gradačac, the name Nermin Sulejmanović wasn’t unfamiliar. He had been on the radar of police before, a man with a reputation for volatility. But nothing in the town’s gossip mill prepared anyone for what he would do on that sweltering August day—when he transformed a social media livestream into a real-time snuff film.

Friends and neighbors say the relationship between Nermin and his wife had been deteriorating for some time. Jealousy was his fuel, control was his religion. Every whisper of disobedience was met with fury, every rumor of betrayal fed into his paranoia. By the time August 11 rolled around, Nermin wasn’t simply angry—he was armed, unstable, and convinced that public spectacle would immortalize him.

The morning was unremarkable to everyone else. Children played in the streets. Markets opened. But behind the closed doors of their home, tension coiled like a venomous snake. His wife—whose name we will not print out of respect for her family—had reportedly been trying to break free, to protect herself. Nermin was already spiraling, replaying every grievance like a highlight reel in his mind, convincing himself he was the victim.

And then he went live.

The Livestream: Turning Murder into Performance

Instagram Live. That’s where it began. The shaky phone camera framed his face—cold, unreadable—before he turned it toward the woman who, in his mind, had “wronged” him. Viewers, expecting some kind of heated argument or maybe an ugly breakup rant, instead witnessed the unthinkable.

In seconds, he crossed the point of no return. Gunshots cracked through the tinny phone audio. She fell. The feed shook. Blood was visible. Viewers screamed in the comments, some pleading for him to stop, others frantically tagging police.

But this wasn’t enough for him. In the middle of the broadcast, he made his intentions sickeningly clear:

"Now I will load my weapon and move on, I have more people to kill..."

And he did. By the time the camera cut off, two more people—a father and his son—were dead. He called them “enemies,” as if that word justified anything. Each killing was methodical, deliberate, as if he was working down a checklist.

Before ending the feed, he delivered one final, twisted message:

"I killed father and son, I killed my enemies. I killed my wife, so be it when you report me to the police. This was my last call in my life."

It didn’t start with a bang—it started with a swarm of filthy sinful thoughts. A slow, festering spiral of threats, venom, and the kind of jealousy that eats a man from the inside until only violence is left to hold him together. In Gradačac, Bosnia, everyone knew the name Nermin Sulejmanović. The steroid-swollen bodybuilder with fists like sledgehammers and a police record that read like a rap sheet of rage. But reputation is one thing—watching the man turn Instagram Live into a snuff stage is another. On August 11, 2023, the world saw what Gradačac already feared: the moment a human time bomb finally blew, spraying blood across the screen in real time.

Before the Live Video

Within his home, domestic tension roiled dangerously. Neighbors reported rising arguments; his wife, desperate to escape, sought help. On that scorching morning, the streets moved uneasily—but the walls inside echoed with something darker. Unbeknownst to the town, Sulejmanović had already decided to go public with his violence, turning private rage into a live broadcast.

During the Live Video

The livestream began with his breathing and a second sense so cold, emotionless and heartless—focused on the camera. As viewers joined, dozens, then hundreds, then 12,000 to 15,000 watched in real time. Behind him stood his wife—terrified, pleading—just seconds from obliteration. Without warning, he raised the gun and fired the first, echoing shot.
He did not stop.
In the video it's alleged he announced, chillingly: “Now I will load my weapon and move on, I have more people to kill…” Then he hunted down and shot a father and son in the streets, claiming them as “enemies” of his twisted cause. The stream never cut. He declared, “I killed father and son, I killed my wife… this is my last call.” RadioFreeEurope/RadioLibertyWSLS

After the Video

As the broadcast spread, panic gripped Gradačac. Authorities warned: Stay inside. Lock your doors. Sirens screamed. Phones buzzed. The world watched live as fear turned into tragedy. Online, some watchers begged him to stop; others cheered. The video was copied, shared, and embedded in trauma.

As the livestream spread like wildfire across social media, fear took over the streets. Authorities issued an urgent warning to residents: stay inside, lock your doors, do not approach. The town had transformed into a hunting ground, and nobody knew who would be next.

Parents rushed to get their children home. Shops closed mid-day. Sirens began to echo through the narrow streets as police units scrambled to track his movements. But the chaos wasn’t just physical—it was digital. His livestream was being screen-recorded, re-uploaded, dissected. The grotesque spectacle was out of the box and could never be shoved back in.

The End of the Rampage

The official narrative claims Sulejmanović turned the gun on himself as police closed in. But eyewitnesses and locals whisper of a far more brutal truth. Allegedly, the bullet tore through his skull, shredding bone and brain without killing him outright, leaving him alive—but damn near a vegetable. Blood ran in rivulets down his face, pooling in his hair, soaking his shirt. His eyes twitched uncontrollably, mouth half-open, drool mingling with coagulated blood. Emergency responders reportedly dragged him into custody under heavy guard, a mangled wreck of the man who had grinned at his phone camera hours earlier. Massive hemorrhaging, shattered cranial bone, and catastrophic neurological damage left him barely conscious, writhing and moaning, yet even in this grotesque state, his name was still poison on everyone’s lips.

Massive blood loss. Neurological complications. He was rushed into custody under heavy guard, more a mangled ruin of a man than the swaggering murderer who’d grinned at his phone camera hours before. Even in this broken state, his name was still poison on everyone’s lips.

Alleged Aftermath in Custody

Here’s where the story takes a darker, more contested turn. Multiple unconfirmed reports allege that, once in detention, Nermin’s reception was anything but merciful. According to these accounts, he was not placed in isolation. Instead, he was housed in a cellblock where news of his crimes had already spread.

A week later, he was found dead. The official line—if there even was one—has been vague, but whispers from inside paint a grim picture: a brutal beating, sustained over hours, leaving him unrecognizable. Whether it was an orchestrated act of vengeance by inmates, or something allowed—if not facilitated—by certain guards, remains murky.

His death, much like his crimes, was violent and intimate. But unlike the livestream, there was no audience this time—just concrete walls, shadows, and the dull thud of fists on flesh.

A Town Left Scarred

The psychological crater left in Gradačac is massive. For many, the horror wasn’t just in the killings themselves but in the fact they were broadcast, turned into a grotesque public event. Women across Bosnia spoke out afterward, sharing their own stories of abuse, of police inaction, of warnings ignored until it was too late. Activists pointed to the killings as a glaring symptom of systemic failure—domestic violence cases dismissed, restraining orders unenforced, male aggression brushed off as “personal issues.”

Parents who had to explain to their children why they couldn’t go outside that day now face the harder task of explaining how a man could kill three people and put it on the internet as if it were a trophy hunt.

The Digital Stain

Even in death, Nermin’s shadow lingers online. His livestream clips circulate in the darker corners of the internet, stripped of context and passed around as shock content. There’s a grotesque demand for it—people chasing the “real” footage, as if watching the last moments of a woman’s life is some kind of forbidden thrill.

This is the double-edged sword of our hyper-connected era: tragedies aren’t just reported, they’re experienced in real time. The horror lives on in cached videos, re-uploads, and endless commentary threads. For the victims’ families, it’s a wound that never stops being reopened.

No Redemption, No Closure

Some people will argue that his death in custody—if the allegations are true—was “justice.” Others see it as the final corruption of due process, a system that fails both the living and the dead.

What’s certain is that there’s no redemption arc here. Nermin Sulejmanović wasn’t a misunderstood man. He wasn’t a victim of circumstance. He made himself judge, jury, and executioner—and in doing so, proved himself a coward. His choice to go live wasn’t about confession; it was about spectacle. He wanted the world to watch him destroy lives, to give him the twisted satisfaction of being seen.

Now he’s rotting—whether in the ground or just in memory—and the only legacy he leaves is a trail of grief and unanswered questions.

The Lesson Nobody Wants to Learn

Bosnia’s femicide crisis isn’t unique. Across the globe, there are countless systems that still don’t take women’s warnings seriously until there’s a body on the ground. The livestream killings are a brutal reminder that violence doesn’t just erupt—it builds, festers, escalates.

And maybe the most haunting thought is this: if Nermin’s bullet had killed him instantly, the world might have closed this chapter faster. Instead, we got an extra week to imagine him, lying in that cell, head pulsing with injury, waiting for a justice that would come not from the courts but from someone else’s fists.

In the end, there’s nothing cinematic about it. No hero emerges from this story. Just bodies, blood, and a town that will never see Instagram the same way again.

Ultimately, Nermin Sulejmanović's actions not only compelled a community to confront the realities of domestic violence but also exposed gaping holes in societal safeguards. The ensuing discussions brought to light the crucial need for reform in support for victims, intervention protocols, and the responsibility of social media platforms in regulating sensitive content. As conversations continue to unfold, one can only hope that this tragic incident prompts necessary change, preventing future tragedies from being broadcasted with such horrific ease.

The After Math: Impact on Gradačac & Beyond

Grief: The livestream shattered the town’s illusions of safety. Families remain haunted; children learned fear early, parents learned that death can descend over breakfast.

Social Reform: Bosnia erupted in protest—thousands marched in Sarajevo, demanding protection for women and responsibility for platforms that enable real-time atrocities Yahoo. Advocacy groups highlight systemic failures in court orders, police response, and digital oversight.

Digital Trauma: The video won’t disappear. It’s shared underground, a grim reminder of how brutality can be performed and consumed like entertainment. Users continue to seek it out—proof that witnessing violence has become a twisted digital ritual.

Some argue his alleged cell death was “poetic justice.” But this wasn’t justice. It was vengeance cloaked in rumor, delivered in darkness. Due process died alongside his victims, buried behind walls and behind screens.

Nermin Sulejmanović’s final act wasn’t broadcast; it was silent. His body—broken, battered—became another message, but one delivered without an audience. Gradačac remains scarred, the internet remains filthy, and the question hangs: in a world where real violence can go live, how far will we let the horror broadcast before someone dares to intervene?

Sources:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/nermin-sulejmanovic-instagram-bosnia-murders/

https://balkaninsight.com/2023/08/14/bosnia-to-investigate-judge-police-over-livestreamed-femicide/

https://makaylax.medium.com/bodybuilder-murders-his-ex-wife-on-instagram-while-their-baby-cries-a611e4728ff8

This article contains explicit descriptions of violence, femicide, and references to a real video recording of the incident. Certain elements—particularly relating to the alleged failed suicide and beating in custody—are unverified rumors and should be treated as such. Viewer discretion is strongly advised. The tone is intentionally dark, confrontational, and graphic, aligning with the 66meta6ick editorial style.