Sae Joon Park, a 55-year-old Army veteran and Purple Heart recipient, found himself in a heartbreaking situation this week as he self-deported to South Korea under the looming threat of federal immigration enforcement.
Having legally immigrated from South Korea at the age of seven, Park grew up in Koreatown and the San Fernando Valley and was a green card holder.
He flew back to his homeland this Monday, expressing disbelief over the circumstances that forced him to leave the United States.
“It’s unbelievable. I’m still in disbelief that this has actually happened,” Park shared during a phone interview from Incheon early Wednesday morning.
He emphasized his understanding of having made mistakes in life but maintained that he was not a violent criminal and that his drug convictions nearly two decades ago were a result of his struggle with PTSD after experiencing trauma during military service.
Park stated, “It’s not like I was going around robbing people at gunpoint or hurting anyone. It was self-induced because of the problems I had.”
The Department of Homeland Security (DHS) commented on Park’s case through Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin, who indicated that he had an extensive criminal history and had been issued a final removal order with an option for self-deportation.
Park’s ordeal reflects the broader implications of recent immigration policies under President Donald Trump’s administration, which have intensified deportation efforts nationwide, affecting thousands of immigrants, including veterans like Park.
Throughout a span of just a few weeks, federal authorities reportedly arrested over 1,600 individuals in Southern California alone for deportation purposes.
Veterans like Park, who served honorably, are eligible for naturalization if they have served at least one year in the military.
However, Park’s service was cut short as he faced serious injuries and was honorably discharged after less than a year.
Since 2002, more than 158,000 immigrant service members have successfully transitioned to U.S. citizenship, highlighting a pathway that remains challenging for many.
As of 2021, both the Department of Veteran Affairs and the DHS hold responsibility for tracking and ensuring access to VA benefits for deported veterans, yet many issues persist.
Park’s journey began in his early childhood.
After his parents divorced when he was very young, his mother immigrated from South Korea to the United States, and Park followed her a year later.
The family moved around Los Angeles, initially living in Koreatown before settling in Panorama City and eventually Van Nuys.
He completed high school at Notre Dame High School in Sherman Oaks in 1988, where he faced challenges learning English but later embraced the Southern California skateboarding and surfing culture of the 1980s.
Josh Belson, a close friend from high school, remembered Park’s positive energy and charm, saying, “He’s always got a smile, a very kind of vivacious energy about him. He was the kind of person you wanted to be around.”
Following graduation, Park felt unprepared for college and opted to join the military.
“The Army provided not only turning me into a man, but also providing me with the GI Bill, so you can go to college later, and they’ll pay for it. And the fact that I did believe in the country, the United States,” Park explained.
He expressed pride in serving his country, valuing his military experience.
Deployed in late 1989 to Panama, Park was thrust into violence during a military operation against the regime of General Manuel Noriega.
On his first night, his platoon encountered a firefight, and the following day, they were involved in a raid that led to Park being shot twice — once in his spine and once in his lower back.
Remarkably, he attributes his survival to his dog tags deflecting one of the bullets.
In the chaos of combat, a nearby Vietnam veteran rescued him, transporting him to an Army hospital, where he ultimately received the Purple Heart from a four-star general while recovering.
After about two weeks in the hospital, Park returned home, initially healing physically but wrestling with mental health challenges related to his wartime experiences, which were not yet widely recognized as PTSD.
“My biggest issue at the time, more than my injuries, was — I didn’t know what it was at the time, nobody did, because there was no such thing as PTSD at the time,” Park admitted.
In the years that followed, he struggled with PTSD symptoms, including nightmares and heightened paranoia, prompting him to self-medicate with marijuana, which later escalated into harder drugs such as crack cocaine.
After significant struggles with addiction, including a tumultuous period following the 1992 Los Angeles riots, Park found himself in a downward spiral that ultimately led to legal issues.
During a drug deal that went awry in New York, he was arrested on drug charges and faced the reality of a court order that threatened prison time for continued substance abuse.
Fearing incarceration, he chose to skip bail, which would later compound his immigration troubles, as skipping bail is considered an aggravated felony for someone holding a green card.
After evading authorities, Park eventually turned himself in to avoid being apprehended in front of his children.
His two-year prison sentence was followed by a six-month detention as he fought deportation.
Ultimately, he was granted a form of deferred action by the DHS, allowing him to remain in the country under strict conditions, including regular check-ins and status updates.
For years thereafter, Park successfully met his requirements, all while maintaining sole custody of his children, who are now 28 and 25 years old, and caring for his aging mother, who faces health challenges.
However, during a recent check-in with immigration officials, Park faced the impending threat of being detained once again.
Instead of immediate incarceration, federal agents placed an ankle monitor on him and granted him a brief, three-week period to arrange his affairs before self-deportation.
Now barred from reentering the U.S. for ten years, he grapples with the painful prospect of missing important family events, including his mother’s eventual passing and his daughter’s wedding.
Reflecting on his situation, Park expressed gratitude for making it out of the U.S. without detention, despite the immense emotional toll.
“I always just assumed a green card, legal residency, is just like having citizenship,” Park remarked, illustrating the pervasive misconceptions surrounding immigration status among many long-term residents.
He concluded, overwhelmed by the pressures of his condition, saying, “Alright. I’m losing it. Can’t stop crying. I think PTSD kicking in strong. Just want to get back to my family and take care of my mother … I’m a mess.”
This poignant story highlights the difficulties faced by veterans like Park who, despite their service and sacrifices, find themselves at the mercy of immigration policies that can upend their lives and separate them from their families.
image source from：latimes
