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 base cafeteria, the sound of soldiers in uniform stirring a mix of nostalgia and dissonance. The sight of them, along with the familiar hum of a chain restaurant, momentarily transports him back to the United States—a place he had not inhabited since childhood. Yet, the reality remains stark: he is stationed at Camp Humphreys, a sprawling US Army complex near Seoul, South Korea. For a brief time each day, the base feels like a distant echo of his homeland, a place he once called home but now finds himself miles away from.

A Veteran’s Dilemma in a Tightened Immigration Climate

As a Purple Heart recipient, Park is emblematic of a growing group of noncitizen US military veterans who have either self-deported or been forced out of the country they fought to protect under President Donald Trump’s aggressive immigration policies. Immigration advocates argue that these measures have resurrected outdated removal orders and significantly restricted the ability of officials to exercise leniency. Park’s story, which gained traction in December during a congressional hearing, brought national focus to the human cost of these policies on individuals who have made profound sacrifices for the nation.

Park, a former green-card holder, self-deported in June 2025 after immigration authorities unexpectedly issued a threat to detain him at a routine check-in. The reason? A prior conviction for drug possession, bail jumping, and related offenses. His case has since become a symbol of the tension between legal accountability and the moral obligation to support those who serve the country. “When I’m on base, it actually feels like I’m in America,” he said, reflecting on his time at the military installation. However, the daily reminders of his American roots now feel like a cruel paradox—being surrounded by the country he once defended, yet unable to return without facing potential deportation.

A Journey from Seoul to Miami

Park’s life in the US began at age seven, when he was sent alone from South Korea after his parents’ divorce. He joined his mother in Miami, a city that quickly became a crucible for his early struggles. “Miami was tough,” he recounted. “I would always get in fights … I was the only Asian kid in the entire school, so I would get picked on a lot.” His mother worked multiple waitressing shifts, often balancing work with the demands of raising a child in a new country. Within a year, they moved to Los Angeles, where Park spent his remaining childhood years. Surrounded by extended family in Koreatown and the San Fernando Valley, he found a sense of belonging, though the challenges of growing up as an immigrant remained.

The decision to enlist in the military came after his high school graduation, when he felt the need for direction. His uncle, a South Korean Marine colonel, advised him to pursue a career in the armed forces. Park joined with his best friend, and together they began their service. By October 1989, they were stationed at Fort Clayton in Panama, where the US launched “Operation Just Cause” to oust the country’s drug-trafficking leader, Manuel Noriega. This marked the largest and most intricate combat operation since Vietnam, and Park was thrust into the heart of it.

The Combat That Changed His Life

One of Park’s earliest missions in Panama would forever alter his life. His platoon raided the home of a Brazilian woman described as Noriega’s “witch,” who was believed to conduct occult rituals for the dictator. Inside the house, he said, the scene was chaotic: closets overflowed with “crates of cocaine,” and rooms contained jars of human body parts. The operation quickly turned violent as a firefight erupted outside. Park was struck twice—once in the spine and once in the lower back—before being dragged to safety, bleeding heavily and gasping for air. His survival was nothing short of miraculous.

At the time, Park’s injuries were severe, and he was unable to move for days. The Army honored his bravery with a Purple Heart award, presented in a bedside ceremony at the San Antonio Army hospital where he was airlifted for treatment. Though he recalls little of the combat, the trauma of the experience lingered. “After I came out of the military … I’m trying to live my life as a twenty, twenty-one-year-old, and I was really messed up,” he shared. Loud noises triggered panic attacks, and nightmares haunted his nights. The psychological toll of war, compounded by his legal troubles, has shaped his current predicament.

Fighting for Home in a Legal Maze

Park is now navigating a complex legal landscape to reclaim his place in the US. His attorney highlighted that the process could take years and may not guarantee success. Among his strategies is a request for a pardon from the governor of New York, hoping to erase the convictions that led to his removal order. However, the administration has consistently cited his criminal record as justification for his deportation, a stance that has drawn criticism from lawmakers and advocates.

His case has sparked a broader conversation about the fairness of Trump’s immigration policies. Critics argue that veterans, who have demonstrated loyalty and sacrifice, should not be punished for past mistakes. “Should a group of people ready to give their lives for the US be expelled from the country they swore to defend?” one lawmaker asked during a heated hearing. Park’s situation underscores the dilemma: while the law demands accountability, the heart of a veteran’s story often deserves compassion.

From Child to Soldier: A Legacy of Service

Though his journey was fraught with hardship, Park’s commitment to the US never wavered. His early experiences in Miami and Los Angeles, though difficult, forged resilience that carried him into the military. After his injuries in Panama, he returned to civilian life, grappling with the aftermath of post-traumatic stress disorder. Yet, his determination to contribute remained strong. Now, as he fights to return, he embodies the intersection of duty, identity, and the bureaucratic hurdles of modern immigration law.

“I never thought I’d be in this position,” Park admitted. “I fought for this country, and now I’m being asked to prove I still deserve to be here.” His story, far from being a solitary one, reflects the broader struggles of thousands of veterans caught in the crosshairs of a political climate that prioritizes legal technicalities over humanitarian considerations. As he continues his battle, Park’s journey remains a testament to the enduring spirit of those who serve, even in the face of adversity.

“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 – when Park’s platoon raided the house of a Brazilian woman described as Noriega’s ‘witch,’ who reportedly performed occult rituals for the dictator.”

“After I came out of the military … I’m trying to live my life as a twenty, twenty-one-year-old, and I was really messed up,” he said. “Loud noises triggered panic. Nightmares kept me awake.”

“I never thought I’d be in this position,” Park admitted. “I fought for this country, and now I’m being asked to prove I still deserve to be here.”