CASE REVIEW: Attila the Hungarian

The Case of the Vanishing Funds: A Hungarian Innovator’s Quest for Justice

The man who sat across from me in my Dutch office at the start of 2025 had the look of a man who had been through a war. His name was Atilla, and despite his namesake’s legacy, he wasn't here to conquer but to plead his case. He was a Hungarian innovator, a man with a vision, who believed his company had been robbed of a crucial EU funding opportunity.

At the heart of his story was a seemingly simple application for a grant of over €450,000 from the European Institute of Innovation and Technology (EIT EU) in Germany. His company’s innovation, he claimed, was unique in Europe. The application was submitted in 2023, and by all accounts, the approval process should have been completed within a year. But this was no ordinary case.

The Curious Case of the Internal Review

At the end of 2023, a strange message came from the EIT EU: a sudden, internal review of their funding mechanism. This wasn’t just a simple delay; it was a complete freeze. It turned out Atilla wasn’t alone. Five other applicants from the same industry group found themselves in the same frustrating limbo. They had all received initial approvals, only to be told their applications were now on hold.

The EIT EU’s justification was a noble one: to ensure EU funding was spent wisely and according to strict rules. The applicants, including Atilla, had no choice but to comply. They waited, they hoped, and they shared their anxieties with each other. By the end of 2024, the axe fell. The EIT EU in Germany canceled all applications from their industry group. The approved funds had vanished.

Atilla and his group were now a unified front, a band of innovators determined to reclaim what they believed was rightfully theirs. They had gathered a mountain of evidence, a trove of emails and correspondences exchanged between themselves and the EIT EU. They had even cross-referenced data from their individual applications to find a pattern. It was a smart, collaborative effort that spoke to their desperation.

The Investigator's Instinct

With over 25 years of experience investigating complex cases, I knew this one was different. The complainants had done their homework. The evidence was overwhelming, and their story was compelling. My first order of business was to establish a clear protocol for the investigation. I asked for copies of passports, a standard procedure for cases involving amounts over €10,000, and a complete archive of all communications with the EIT EU.

A red flag immediately went up. Hungary doesn't have the best reputation for handling public funding, and historically, applications from that region are often subject to intense scrutiny for potential fraud. The EU has powerful bodies like OLAF (the European Anti-Fraud Office) and the EPPO (European Public Prosecutor’s Office) that can investigate cases of maladministration or fraud, especially when EU funds are involved. My role was to act as an investigative journalist, helping them manage their data within the scope of a potential whistleblower investigation.

As I dug deeper, the case became more complex. I interviewed Atilla and the other applicants, poring over every email and document. The emails seemed straightforward, but something felt off. A pattern emerged. With one exception, all the companies were startups that had never secured significant external funding. Companies with strong backing from commercial investors are often a sign of true innovation and a solid business plan. But for Atilla and the others, the EIT EU funding wasn't just a boost; it was the entire lifeline.

Atilla was passionate about his innovation, but he kept making excuses for why he couldn’t provide documents showing commercial interest in his company. The more he talked, the more it became clear that the EIT EU funding was a critical piece of a larger puzzle: it was meant to be the leverage he needed to attract other investors.

Cracks in the Story

Then came the bigger questions. Why was Atilla, a Hungarian, in the Netherlands? He claimed he was hiding from the Orban regime and that it was difficult to run a business in Hungary without paying bribes. It was a compelling story, but it didn't add up. I checked his company's website and hosting details. Everything—including his email server—was hosted in Hungary. If you're running from a regime, you don't keep your digital life in their backyard.

The final piece of the puzzle fell into place when I received a copy of Atilla's ID. It was a fake. Miraculously, none of the other four applicants could provide a valid ID either.

As the interviews progressed, the complainants grew more frustrated. They were convinced the EU funding was rightfully theirs and saw my questioning as an obstacle. Their frustration turned into aggression. They threatened to complain about me to professional bodies, accused me of working with the EIT EU, and even tried to bribe me to change my findings. It became a case of not just financial loss but a complete breakdown of trust.

So, was the EIT EU wrong to cancel the applications? Yes, in a way. They could have handled the situation with more transparency. But were Atilla and his group the victims of EIT EU’s mismanagement?

The evidence I had collected pointed to a different story. It was a story of a group of entrepreneurs who needed a massive influx of cash to survive. They were passionate, yes, but their innovation lacked the market validation that commercial investment would have provided. It was a tale of desperation and a risky gamble, not a clear-cut case of EU mismanagement. It was a reminder that in the world of funding and innovation, a great story is never enough without the evidence to back it up.

*Atilla is not his real name.