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. Swept up in Trump’s immigration crackdown, he now fights to come home
He earned a Purple Heart fighting – Sae Joon Park, a 56-year-old Army veteran, recently found himself in a peculiar situation: ordering pancakes at a diner and walking past soldiers in uniform, hearing a language he hadn’t spoken in over a year since leaving the United States. The moment was fleeting, as if the country he once defended had briefly returned to him. Yet, he remained thousands of miles from home, stationed at Camp Humphreys, a U.S. Army base south of Seoul, South Korea. The facility’s mix of chain restaurants, housing blocks, and training grounds offered a semblance of familiarity, but the sense of displacement lingered. “When I’m on base, it actually feels like I’m in America,” Park said, reflecting on the irony of his current circumstances.
A Veteran’s Struggle in Exile
Park’s journey began decades earlier, when he was just seven years old. After his parents’ divorce, he traveled alone from South Korea to join his mother in Miami, a move that would shape his early life. “Miami was tough,” he recalled in a CNN interview. “I would always get in fights… I was the only Asian kid in the entire school, so I would get picked on a lot.” The experience left him hardened, and within a year, his family relocated to Los Angeles, where Park spent the rest of his childhood. Surrounded by extended family in Koreatown and the San Fernando Valley, he found a new sense of belonging, though his mother worked multiple waitressing jobs before eventually starting small businesses selling clothing and records.
“Miami was tough,” Park 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.”
After high school, Park sought direction, enlisting in the military with his best friend. His uncle, the eldest of his mother’s 11 siblings and a South Korean Marine colonel, advised him. “I got there just in time for the training and to go into war,” he said, describing his entry into the conflict in Panama. The year was 1989, and he was deployed to Fort Clayton, where the U.S. launched “Operation Just Cause” to remove Manuel Noriega, the country’s drug-trafficking leader. The mission became one of the largest combat operations since Vietnam, and Park’s platoon was thrust into the chaos within months of his arrival.
The Trump Era’s Impact on Military Veterans
Fast forward to 2026, and Park’s life took a dramatic turn. As a former green-card holder, he self-deported last summer after immigration officials unexpectedly threatened to arrest him during a routine check-in. The reason? A prior criminal conviction, which the Department of Homeland Security cited as grounds for removal. His case gained national attention in December when lawmakers questioned then-Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem during a congressional hearing, highlighting how veterans were being caught in the crossfire of Trump’s immigration policies.
DHS has defended its actions, pointing to Park’s record of drug possession and bail-jumping charges as justification. Yet, his attorney argues that these legal avenues may take years to resolve, and none are guaranteed to succeed. “It’s not just about the rules—it’s about the people who risked everything for this country,” the lawyer said, emphasizing the emotional toll of Park’s situation. Now, the veteran is navigating a complex web of legal strategies, hoping to reclaim the home he once fought to protect.
Combat in Panama and the Cost of Service
During his time in Panama, Park’s life changed irrevocably. His platoon was tasked with raiding the home of a Brazilian woman described as Noriega’s “witch.” According to Park, the house was filled with “crates of cocaine” and jars of human body parts, a chilling testament to the dictator’s alleged occult practices. The operation quickly turned violent, with a firefight erupting outside. Park was struck twice—once in the spine, once in the lower back—before being dragged to safety, bleeding heavily and struggling to breathe. His survival was miraculous, earning him a Purple Heart, a medal awarded to those injured or killed in combat.
“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—earning him one of the most esteemed decorations in the U.S. military.”
Though the details of his injury are hazy, Park remembers being heavily drugged and unable to move after the incident. The trauma of combat, combined with the challenges of civilian life, led to the development of post-traumatic stress disorder. “After I came out of the military… I was really messed up,” he said. Loud noises triggered panic attacks, and nightmares kept him awake for months. The mental health struggles followed him into adulthood, creating a cycle of challenges that would eventually intersect with the immigration policies he had once supported.
A Debate Over National Loyalty and Legal Accountability
Park’s case has sparked a broader conversation about the balance between national loyalty and legal accountability. Critics argue that Trump’s administration revived old removal orders and reduced prosecutorial discretion, making it easier to deport even those who had served their country. “These veterans gave their lives for America,” said an immigration attorney, “yet they’re being pushed out because of a single conviction.”
For Park, the fight to return is personal. He is seeking a pardon from the governor of New York, hoping to erase the charges that led to his expulsion. However, the process is slow and uncertain, with no guarantee of success. His attorney acknowledges the uphill battle but remains hopeful, emphasizing the human cost of the policy. “It’s not just about the law—it’s about the man who served and now finds himself on the outside looking in.”
Meanwhile, the debate over Trump’s immigration approach continues to grow. Advocates for stricter enforcement argue that criminal convictions justify removal, while others question whether the policies unfairly target individuals who had already sacrificed for the nation. Park’s story, now a symbol of this divide, underscores the emotional and legal complexities faced by noncitizen veterans. As he waits for a resolution, the question lingers: Should those who fought for America be penalized for the mistakes they made in civilian life, or does their service entitle them to a second chance?
His experience highlights a larger trend under Trump’s administration, where immigration policies have increasingly affected those who had once pledged allegiance to the United States. Park’s journey from a child fleeing his homeland to a combat veteran and now a man seeking redemption through the legal system is a testament to the resilience and determination that define many who serve. Yet, it also reveals the fragility of belonging for those caught between two worlds: the one they left and the one they fought to protect.
