He earned a Purple Heart fighting for the US. Swept up in Trump’s immigration crackdown, he now fights to come home
He earned a Purple Heart fighting for the US. Now, he fights to return home
He earned a Purple Heart fighting – Sae Joon Park’s life took an unexpected turn last summer when he self-deported from the United States, a decision that left him thousands of miles away from the country he once defended. For a fleeting few hours, he found solace in the familiar act of ordering pancakes and walking past soldiers in uniform, hearing a language he hadn’t spoken since leaving America. Yet, the moment was bittersweet, as he was stationed at Camp Humphreys, a US Army base nestled south of South Korea’s capital, Seoul. The base’s amenities—chain restaurants, housing units, and training facilities—offered a semblance of comfort, but the reality of his situation remained stark.
A Veteran’s Return and a Shattered Dream
Park, a 56-year-old veteran, returned to his birthplace in June 2025, a place he had not called home since childhood. His journey began as a child when his parents separated, and he was sent alone to join his mother in Miami. There, he learned early to navigate challenges, often getting into fights and facing discrimination as the sole Asian student in his school. “Miami was tough,” he told CNN. “I would always get in fights … I was the only Asian kid in the entire school, so I would get picked on a lot.”
Within a year, his family relocated to Los Angeles, where Park spent his remaining childhood years. Surrounded by extended family in Koreatown and the San Fernando Valley, he grew up in a community that offered both cultural roots and opportunities. His mother worked multiple jobs as a waitress before launching small businesses selling clothing and records. The transition to adulthood, however, proved difficult. Park described his post-high school years as a time of searching for direction, eventually leading him to enlist in the military with a close friend, influenced by his uncle’s advice.
Combat in Panama and a Life Altered
After basic training, Park was assigned to Fort Clayton in Panama in October 1989. Just months later, he found himself in the heart of what the Army dubbed “the largest and most complex combat operation since the Vietnam War.” This was during “Operation Just Cause,” a mission aimed at removing Panama’s drug-trafficking leader, Manuel Noriega. Park’s platoon was tasked with raiding the home of a Brazilian woman, described by officials as Noriega’s “witch,” who was believed to conduct occult rituals for the dictator.
The operation left Park forever changed. He recalled the scene: closets filled with “crates of cocaine” and rooms containing jars of human body parts. A sudden firefight erupted outside, and Park was shot twice—once in the spine and once in the lower back—before being dragged to safety, bleeding heavily and struggling for each breath. Despite the severity of his injuries, he survived, earning a Purple Heart in a bedside ceremony at a San Antonio Army hospital. Park’s memory of the event is fragmented, save for the intense drug use that left him disoriented and unable to move.
Returning to civilian life, he grappled with what he later recognized as post-traumatic stress disorder. “After I came out of the military … I was really messed up,” he said. Everyday sounds triggered panic, and nightmares plagued his nights. The trauma of combat, however, was just one chapter in his life. His legal status in the US began to unravel after immigration officials threatened to arrest him at a routine check-in, citing a prior conviction for drug possession and bail-jumping charges. Despite his service, Park was forced to leave the country he once fought to protect.
Trump’s Policies and a Legal Battle
Park’s case has become emblematic of the broader impact of Trump’s immigration policies, which have prioritized strict enforcement over humanitarian considerations. Immigration attorneys argue that the administration revived outdated removal orders and restricted prosecutorial discretion, disproportionately affecting noncitizen veterans like Park. His self-deportation in 2025 sparked national debate, drawing attention during a congressional hearing in December when lawmakers questioned then-Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem about the treatment of veterans caught in the crackdown.
Despite his injuries and service, Park’s criminal record became a focal point for his removal. The Department of Homeland Security cited these convictions as justification for his expulsion, leaving him in a legal limbo that has persisted for over a year. In an effort to reclaim his place in the US, Park is pursuing multiple avenues, including a pardon request from the governor of New York. His attorney acknowledges that these processes may take years and do not guarantee a return, but they represent his hope to reunite with family and community in America.
Meanwhile, his story has ignited discussions about the fairness of Trump’s immigration approach. Critics question whether veterans, who have sacrificed for the nation, should be stripped of their rights simply for past legal infractions. Park’s experience highlights a tension between national security and the rights of those who have served. As he navigates this complex journey, his case remains a symbol of the human cost of aggressive immigration policies, underscoring the need for a more compassionate framework that acknowledges the contributions of individuals, regardless of their immigration status.
A Question of Loyalty and Belonging
“I was ready to give my life for the US,” Park said, reflecting on his military years. Yet, the same country that honored him with a Purple Heart now seems poised to send him away. His journey from Miami to Los Angeles, and eventually to the frontlines of Panama, was driven by a desire for stability and opportunity. But his return to the US has been overshadowed by the legal battles that followed his conviction. As he lives in South Korea, he finds himself questioning whether his sacrifices were enough to secure his place in the nation he once called home.
The debate over Park’s case extends beyond individual hardship, touching on broader questions of identity, belonging, and the obligations of a nation to its veterans. His story serves as a reminder that even those who have risked their lives for the country can be caught in the crosshairs of its immigration policies. As he continues to seek a resolution, the world watches, wondering what the future holds for those who fought for America and now face the challenge of reclaiming it.
“Miami was tough. I would always get in fights … I was the only Asian kid in the entire school, so I would get picked on a lot.”
“I got there just in time for the training and to go into war,” he told CNN. “In a matter of days, Park was involved in a mission that would alter his life … and earn him one of the most esteemed decorations in the US military.”
As Park’s legal fight unfolds, his resilience and determination remain unwavering. His journey from a young immigrant to a decorated veteran, and now to a man seeking redemption, encapsulates the complexities of American immigration law and the enduring spirit of those who serve. The question remains: Can a nation that once welcomed him with open arms now find a way to welcome him back?