When the human rights commission of Fiji issued its call for an independent probe into the death of Jone Vakarisi whereas in military custody, it wasn’t merely reacting to another tragic incident in a long line of similar cases. It was sounding an alarm that has been growing louder across the Pacific for over a decade—one that questions not just the conduct of individual soldiers, but the systemic impunity that allows such deaths to occur without meaningful accountability. Vakarisi, a 32-year-old father of two from Naitasiri Province, died on April 3, 2026, after being detained by Republic of Fiji Military Forces (RFMF) personnel following a routine traffic stop in Suva. What began as a minor infraction escalated into a fatal encounter, and within 48 hours, his death certificate—issued by police, not a medical examiner—was already circulating on social media, raising immediate red flags about procedural irregularities and potential cover-ups.
This case matters now due to the fact that it exposes a fault line in Fiji’s post-coup democratic transition that many had hoped was stabilizing. Since the 2006 military takeover led by Commodore Frank Bainimarama—now Prime Minister—the RFMF has retained significant influence over national security operations, often operating with minimal civilian oversight. While Bainimarama’s government has pursued international engagement and economic reform, critics argue that the military’s domestic role has expanded rather than contracted, particularly in policing functions traditionally reserved for civilian law enforcement. The death of Vakarisi has reignited fears that the lines between military and police authority are dangerously blurred, especially when it comes to the use of force and detention practices.
To understand the gravity of this moment, one must gaze beyond the immediate tragedy and into the patterns that have emerged over the past decade. According to data compiled by the Pacific Concerns Resource Centre (PCRC), there have been at least seven documented deaths in military or police custody in Fiji since 2016, with only one resulting in a criminal conviction—a 2019 case involving a soldier who received a suspended sentence after pleading guilty to manslaughter. In the other cases, investigations were either stalled, inconclusive, or resulted in internal disciplinary actions that never saw the light of day. This statistic isn’t just a reflection of institutional reluctance; it points to a deeper cultural issue within the security forces where accountability is often sacrificed for unit cohesion and command loyalty.
The Human Rights and Anti-Discrimination Commission (HRADC) of Fiji, in its April 15 statement, did not mince words. “The circulation of a police-issued death certificate prior to autopsy results or judicial review constitutes a serious breach of protocol and undermines public trust in both the medical and legal systems,” the commission declared. It urged the President to appoint an independent commission of inquiry, citing concerns about potential conflicts of interest if the RFMF investigates its own personnel. The HRADC as well referenced Fiji’s obligations under the Convention Against Torture, to which the state acceded in 2016, noting that prolonged detention without access to legal counsel or medical examination may constitute cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment.
What the initial reports failed to fully convey is how this incident fits into a broader regional trend. Across the Pacific Islands Forum, similar concerns have been raised in Papua Latest Guinea, where military involvement in internal security has led to numerous allegations of abuse, and in Solomon Islands, where the Regional Assistance Mission to Solomon Islands (RAMSI) was partly deployed in response to breakdowns in law enforcement that included police-military collusion. In Fiji’s case, the situation is complicated by the fact that the military remains a popular institution in many rural communities, often seen as a stabilising force in areas where state presence is weak. This duality—respect for the institution coupled with fear of its unchecked power—creates a difficult environment for reform.
To gain deeper insight into the structural challenges at play, I spoke with Dr. Litia Nailatikau, a Fijian constitutional lawyer and former lecturer at the University of the South Pacific. “We keep treating these incidents as isolated tragedies when they are, in fact, symptoms of a governance deficit,” she explained. “The military is not trained for policing, yet it is routinely deployed in public order situations. Without clear legal boundaries, independent oversight, and culturally appropriate use-of-force guidelines, we will continue to see preventable deaths.” Her comments were echoed by Assistant Commissioner of Police Isikeli Ligairi, who, in a rare public remarks, acknowledged systemic gaps. “We need better inter-agency protocols and clearer chains of command when military personnel are involved in civilian detentions,” he told Fiji Broadcasting Corporation in an interview on April 16. “Right now, too much depends on individual judgment, and that’s a risk we can’t afford.”
These concerns are not abstract. They have tangible consequences for Fiji’s international standing and economic prospects. The country has positioned itself as a hub for sustainable tourism and blue economy investment, relying heavily on its reputation for stability and good governance. Incidents like Vakarisi’s death risk undermining that narrative, particularly as foreign partners—including New Zealand, Australia, and the European Union—scrutinize human rights records when considering aid packages or trade agreements. In 2024, the EU paused discussions on a Pacific-wide trade agreement citing concerns over democratic backsliding in member states, a development Fijian officials privately acknowledged as a wake-up call.
Yet amid the grief and outrage, We find signs of movement. The Vakarisi family, represented by lawyer Suliano Siwatibau, has refused to accept a quiet settlement. “We are not seeking vengeance,” Siwatibau told The Fiji Times on April 17. “We are seeking truth. And if the truth leads to accountability, then so be it.” Their demand for an independent inquiry has gained traction among civil society groups, including the Fiji Women’s Rights Movement and the Citizens’ Constitutional Forum, which have begun organizing peaceful vigils in Suva and Lautoka. Even within the military, there are murmurs of discomfort. A retired senior officer, speaking on condition of anonymity, told me that “many of us joined to serve, not to cover up mistakes. If the institution wants to retain its honor, it must allow the light in.”
This moment, painful as it is, offers Fiji a chance to recalibrate. The path forward requires more than just an investigation into one death—it demands a comprehensive review of the legal framework governing military involvement in internal security, the establishment of an independent police complaints authority with real teeth, and mandatory human rights training that is not merely perfunctory but embedded in promotion cycles. It also requires political courage from leaders who have benefited from military support but now must prioritize institutional integrity over short-term loyalty.
As the sun sets over the Laucala Bay and the flags fly at half-mast for Jone Vakarisi, the question is not whether Fiji can overcome this challenge—it is whether it will choose to. The answer will determine not just the fate of one family, but the kind of nation Fiji aspires to be in the second quarter of the 21st century.
What do you think accountability should look like in institutions entrusted with public safety? Share your thoughts below—because the conversation, like the pursuit of justice, must continue.
