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 sits in a quiet corner of a diner, sipping coffee while the clatter of silverware echoes around him. For a fleeting moment, the sound of spoken English and the scent of pancakes remind him of the United States—a country he once called home before being forced to leave last summer. Now, he’s thousands of miles away, confined to the perimeter of Camp Humphreys in South Korea, a sprawling military base near Seoul. The place, with its chain restaurants and uniformed personnel, feels strangely familiar, almost like a temporary reprieve from his current predicament.
Park, a 56-year-old Army veteran, returned to his birthplace in June 2026 after years of living in the U.S. His journey began when his parents divorced, and at age seven, he traveled alone from South Korea to join his mother in Miami. The move was challenging; he was the only Asian child in his school, often targeted by peers. “Miami was tough,” he recalled to 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.” By the time he turned eight, his family had relocated to Los Angeles, where he found a more welcoming community in Koreatown and the San Fernando Valley.
Park’s mother worked multiple jobs as a waitress before launching small businesses that sold clothing and records. During his teenage years, he sought direction from his uncle, a South Korean Marine colonel and one of his mother’s 11 siblings. Encouraged by his uncle’s advice, Park enlisted in the U.S. military shortly after high school. His service took him to Fort Clayton in Panama, where he became part of a historic operation that would define his life.
Operation Just Cause, launched in October 1989, aimed to overthrow Panama’s drug-trafficking dictator, Manuel Noriega. Park arrived just in time for the combat, thrust into a scenario described by the Army as “the largest and most complex combat operation since Vietnam.” Within days, his platoon was assigned to raid a house in Noriega’s neighborhood. The mission, which involved searching for occult rituals and drug caches, turned violent. Park, who had already endured the chaos of war, found himself wounded again—this time, in a firefight that erupted outside the target residence.
He was struck twice, once in the spine and once in the lower back, before being dragged from the scene bleeding heavily and gasping for air. The injury left him incapacitated, his memory fragmented by the drugs administered during treatment. “I got there just in time for the training and to go into war,” Park said. “In a matter of days, I was involved in a mission that would alter my life.” His bravery during the operation earned him a Purple Heart, awarded in a bedside ceremony at a San Antonio Army hospital after he was airlifted there for recovery.
Despite his heroic service, Park’s path back to the U.S. has been obstructed by Trump’s immigration policies. A former green-card holder, he self-deported in 2026 after immigration officials unexpectedly threatened to arrest him during a routine check-in. The trigger was a prior conviction for drug possession and bail jumping, charges he believed would be overlooked in his case. His removal order, however, became a focal point of national debate when lawmakers questioned then-Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem during a congressional hearing in December 2025.
“The question was whether veterans who served their country should be expelled for minor offenses,” one senator noted. Park’s situation exemplifies the tension between loyalty and legal status. His attorney explained that the Department of Homeland Security has relied heavily on his criminal record to justify his case, despite arguments that his actions in the military should outweigh past mistakes. “He was ready to give his life for the U.S.,” the lawyer emphasized. “Yet, his removal feels like a betrayal of the values he defended.”
Park’s story has sparked a broader conversation about the fairness of Trump’s immigration policies. Critics argue that the administration’s aggressive stance has disproportionately impacted noncitizen veterans, many of whom had no choice but to leave the country they fought for. “It’s not just about his convictions,” an immigration lawyer told CNN. “It’s about how these policies have revived old removal orders and limited the discretion of officials to consider a person’s contributions.”
While Park pursues multiple legal avenues—such as a pardon request from the governor of New York—his chances remain uncertain. The process could take years, and there’s no guarantee he’ll return. In the meantime, he clings to the hope that his service will be recognized as a reason to grant him mercy. “I was messed up after the military,” he admitted. “But I still wanted to be part of something bigger. I wanted to protect my country.”
His struggle highlights the personal toll of immigration enforcement. For years, Park had lived in the U.S., building a life and a legacy. Now, he’s caught in a cycle of displacement, his time in the military overshadowed by a legal system that prioritizes past crimes over present service. “It’s like being punished twice,” he said. “Once for fighting for the U.S., and again for being a foreigner.”
As the debate continues, Park’s case serves as a poignant reminder of the human cost behind policy. His journey from a lonely child in Miami to a decorated veteran in Panama, and now to a man fighting for his right to return, underscores the complexities of identity, loyalty, and justice. “I still feel like I belong here,” he said. “Even if it’s just a few hours at a time.”
“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.”
Park’s childhood in Los Angeles was shaped by the support of his extended family, who helped him navigate the challenges of growing up as an immigrant. His mother’s resilience, coupled with his own determination, led him to enlist in the military. “My uncle said, ‘You need direction,’ and the Army gave me that,” he explained. “I didn’t think I’d ever see the inside of a combat zone, but I was there before I knew it.”
The mission in Panama, though harrowing, marked a turning point. Park’s platoon targeted a Brazilian woman, described as Noriega’s “witch,” whose house was believed to house occult artifacts and cocaine. The raid turned into a chaotic confrontation, with gunfire echoing through the streets. Park’s injuries were severe, yet his survival was a testament to his courage. “I was shot, but I kept moving,” he said. “The only thing I remember is the drugs and the pain.”
His recovery was slow, and the trauma of war lingered long after his discharge. Diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, Park struggled to reintegrate into civilian life. “After I came out of the military, I was really messed up,” he admitted. “Loud noises would trigger panic. Nightmares kept me awake for weeks.”
Despite these challenges, Park remained a loyal citizen, working to rebuild his life. His self-deportation, however, felt like an unexpected consequence of his service. “I didn’t expect to be punished for something I did years ago,” he said. “I was trying to live my life as a twenty, twenty-one-year-old.” The decision to leave the U.S. was made out of fear, as immigration officials warned of immediate detention. “They said, ‘You’re going to be handcuffed and taken away.’ I didn’t want to fight for my country and then lose it.”
Now, in South Korea, Park’s presence on the military base is both a comfort and a reminder of his temporary status. While he cherishes the familiar surroundings, the distance from his homeland weighs heavily. “I miss the smell of American coffee, the way people speak, and the places I once called home,” he said. Yet, his fight to return continues, fueled by the belief that his sacrifices should not be forgotten.
As the debate over Trump’s policies intensifies, Park’s story resonates with those who question the fairness of expelling individuals who served their country. His journey from a child in Miami to a veteran in Panama, and now to a man seeking redemption, illustrates the profound impact of immigration enforcement on those who have given their all to the United States.
