by Laura Ling
“I’m a prisoner,” I explained. “There’s no need for me to wear anything fancy.”
I chuckled to myself, thinking that my drab clothes probably helped reinforce their image of America as a poor, desolate place. I spotted a bright green collared shirt in the pile. I’d never worn it because it was too bright, the opposite of my mood during my captivity. This would have to do for the general. It was the only option.
Euna and I were brought into a small room in the compound. John Podesta and Doug Band from Clinton’s team were seated along with several North Korean officials. President Clinton was not present. Two empty seats were reserved in the corner for the two of us. As the general entered the room, we all rose to our feet. He was a tall, full-framed man with a large, round face. He motioned for everyone to be seated. Through the open doorway, I saw Mr. Yee looking into the room. In all the time I’d spent with him, I never knew him to be a very expressive person. But there was something I saw in him at that moment that struck me. As the door closed, leaving him out in the hallway, I could tell he was genuinely happy for me.
It was a brief ceremony. The general spoke and Mr. Baek translated. As at the trial, I could tell that Mr. Baek was nervous. This was perhaps the biggest, most important translating assignment he’d ever had. He was literally interpreting orders that had been handed down by the Dear Leader himself. I could see that his hands were shaking as he frantically scribbled down the general’s words. He didn’t want to make any mistakes.
I remembered just how crucial a role Mr. Baek had played for me during my captivity. In a country where I was handicapped by not knowing the language, he became my voice. When he translated for Mr. Yee or other officials, he never missed a beat. He was always friendly and sanguine. Just seeing him at times cheered me up.
The general announced that Chairman Kim Jong Il was pardoning us for our crimes. Hearing that statement coming from this high-ranking official was like being resuscitated from a deep coma. I breathed in deeply and looked over at John Podesta and Doug Band and wanted to embrace them and thank them for coming to our rescue.
At the end of the ceremony, Euna and I were led back to our rooms. Mr. Yee told me to sit as if I were being investigated once again, a reminder that I was not yet free. He assumed his normal position at the desk and Mr. Baek took his usual seat beside me. I was given a sheet of paper and a pen and told that I must write a letter to Kim Jong Il thanking him for his compassion.
“Dear Chairman Kim,” the letter began.
If this was the final thing I had to do in order to go home, I was happy to do it. I scribbled down a couple of sentences, apologizing for my actions and thanking Kim for pardoning Euna and me.
After writing the letter, I went through some of my belongings and gathered a few items I wanted to leave with some of the people I had met. To Mr. Baek, I presented the book The Forever War by the New York Times correspondent Dexter Filkins. Iain had sent me the hardcover book, which I had started reading back in Los Angeles before my detainment. When it arrived in Pyongyang, I saw the dog-eared page where I had left off, and it made me think of my life before I was a prisoner. I imagined reading it at home just before dozing off to sleep. The book was about the rise of and battle against Islamic fundamentalism in Afghanistan and Iraq. Mr. Baek loved learning about foreign policy, so I thought it was an appropriate gift to leave him.
“This book is about the forever wars taking place in Iraq and Afghanistan,” I explained. “I give it to you because I hope that this war, the war between the United States and North Korea, is one that doesn’t last forever. I do hope our countries can find common ground, and that I will one day see you again.”
He accepted the book graciously with his kind, warm smile.
I told Paris to distribute my toiletries and clothes among the guards and caretakers. But I wanted to leave her with something special. I took out the cashmere sweater Iain had given me for my birthday several years ago. I never wore it in captivity because by the time it reached me, the weather was already scorching hot. I also gave her the sweet-smelling shampoos Iain had sent to remind me of our vacation together in Napa Valley.
“I can’t accept these things,” she said earnestly. “These are special gifts from your husband.”
“I want you to have them,” I said. “That way you will have something to remember me by.”
She accepted the items and said, “Thank you, Laura. I won’t ever forget you.”
To one of the female caretakers who had been trying to learn English, I left a Korean-English dictionary. She thanked me and said to me in Korean, “Now that you will see your husband, you can try to have a baby.”
At one point during my captivity, while she was looking at one of my wedding photos, I had told her that I felt remorse about not trying to start a family sooner.
“I hope so!” I said to her.
Finally it was time to say good-bye to Mr. Yee. I reflected on the hours and hours each day when he would berate me for not answering his questions to his satisfaction. At first I dreaded his visits and the grilling sessions he put me through. A single look from him could make me shiver. But over time, as we opened up to each other, I began to see that he was trying to help me, that he was trying to provide me with the knowledge and information I needed to convey to my family. He was my captor and my protector.
There was a sketchbook that Iain had sent to me about a month earlier. I specifically refrained from writing in it because I was hoping I might be able to give it to Mr. Yee as a parting gift when the trial was over, but he had left so unexpectedly. It resembled the red notebook he used during the investigation. I recalled the countless times he would enter the room with the notebook and pen in hand. I’d become queasy just watching him open the red cover and flip through the pages to a blank sheet before beginning to interrogate me.
I handed him the black sketchbook. “This is a new notebook for your next investigation,” I said. “Though I hope you never have to use it for those purposes. In fact, I hope you get to use it for other reasons entirely.” I went on to tell him that perhaps he might even write a story about a North Korean investigator and an American prisoner whose unlikely bond becomes a metaphor for possible warming of relations between their countries. He laughed.
I could tell he was touched by this gesture. I knew I might be crossing the line when I stood up and embraced him, but I didn’t care. He, more than anyone else I met, had been the most vocal with his anti-American sentiments. I wanted him to feel a connection with someone from the enemy nation. He held his body stiffly as I hugged him and thanked him for keeping his promise to get me home.
There were several cars waiting outside the compound to take us to the airport. John Podesta asked one of the North Korean officials who had been at the ceremony if he and Doug Band could ride together with us, but it wasn’t allowed. I later learned that this worried Band, who couldn’t rest until Euna and I were safely on the plane. Euna and I were placed in a separate car behind the others. As we drove out of the compound gates, I heard the shrieking yelps of the guard dog for the last time.
On the way to the airport, I could see Doug Band in the car in front of us looking back to make sure our vehicle was following theirs. We arrived at the airport and waited in the car while a giant motorcade of several black Mercedeses and a limousine carrying President Clinton pulled close to the private plane. The car we were in did not join the motorcade but stopped a way back from the activity taking place ahead. A group of North Korean photographers was gathered on bleachers next to the plane and snapped shots as the former president exited the limo and strode to the steps leading up to the plane. It seemed that the North Koreans, who had been orchestrating Clinton’s visit from start to end, did not want to show Euna and me warmly greeting the former president on their soil. Instead, they waited until Clinton was on the aircraft before instructing us to get out of the car.
I later learned from Justin Cooper, who was in the limousine with President Clinto
n, that when they got to the airport, they looked around for Podesta, Band, Euna, and me but could not see us because our cars were made to wait quite a distance away from their motorcade. President Clinton and Justin Cooper were rushed onto the aircraft, where they figured we might already be, but we had still not been allowed out of our vehicles. North Korean officials then motioned for Straub, Kwon, and the U.S. Secret Service agents to board the aircraft. A moment of worry and confusion washed over the team, as they still did not know where the four of us were. It was only when they spied us getting out of the cars and headed in their direction that they felt relief.
The driver opened the trunk of the vehicle and an official motioned for us to collect our bags and go. We quickly grabbed our belongings and rushed toward the plane. Doug Band came toward us and kindly offered to help with our bags. He had stayed behind rather than entering the plane with President Clinton so that he could make sure nothing happened to Euna and me. I thanked him but declined the help, not wanting to pause for even a second. All I could think about was getting on that jet.
With each step I took up the stairs to the plane, I felt closer and closer to home. President Clinton was waiting for us at the entrance to the aircraft. He greeted us with his warm smile. I was overwhelmed with emotion when I entered the plane. No longer was someone monitoring my every move; no longer did I have to watch my words. I was no longer scared.
Everyone on the plane, including President Clinton, his staff, the pilots, and the secret service agents, was jubilant.
“I feel freedom!” I exclaimed exuberantly.
“Just wait until we’re out of Pyongyang airspace,” said someone on the plane, and we all laughed.
But he was right. As the plane took off, the feeling of being in the air, with Pyongyang becoming a distant speck below us, was magical. My isolation in the most isolated country in the world had finally come to an end.
LISA
AT AROUND 3:30 P.M. Pacific standard time, CNN began showing video of Laura and Euna walking on the tarmac toward President Clinton’s plane. These were the first images that had been seen of the girls in nearly five months. We ran to the TV and replayed the video over and over again. We tried to scrutinize how my sister looked after so many months in captivity. She was wearing a green polo shirt, probably one Iain had sent, and her hair was in a ponytail. Though she looked pale, she looked healthy. Iain was the only one of us who had ever met Euna. He said she looked much thinner than she was when he met her. But no matter what, they were coming home. We all began crying tears of joy. The girls were finally free.
At 8:20 A.M. Pyongyang time on August 5, President Clinton’s plane took off from North Korea, with Laura and Euna Lee inside. It was 4:20 P.M. on August 4 in Los Angeles. Laura would be home in a matter of hours. Shortly after the news reported that the plane had left Pyongyang, I received an e-mail from Doug.
“We have them,” he wrote. “We’re on our way to Japan. They’re both doing well.”
Minutes later another e-mail said, “They’re in good stead; relaxing and having juice. We’re all trying to be Jewish mothers.”
I ran into my mother’s arms, then into my father’s. Mom and Dad then embraced each other, and I gave Iain a huge hug.
“She’s coming home,” I whispered to my sister’s eager husband. “It’s finally over.”
LAURA
ON STEVE BING’S PRIVATE PLANE, Euna and I were given a separate room with two beds. I was exhausted after having not slept in three days. But I was too wired to rest.
Our families had packed a bag for each of us that was filled with snacks for the plane ride and clean clothes to change into. My family sent goodies they knew I loved, but ironically they were Korean snacks. Even though I hadn’t been given anything like this in North Korea, it seemed too awkward to eat Korean-style popcorn at a time like this. I was craving a slice of pizza.
Euna and I sat at the front of the plane along with President Clinton, John Podesta, brothers Doug and Dr. Roger Band, and Justin Cooper. David Straub and Min Ji Kwon were sitting close by. They were all huddled around us with looks of concern. President Clinton asked us how we felt and wanted to know if we’d been treated fairly. I told him that while there had been violence when we were first apprehended, since then, we hadn’t been mistreated. I was in a state of shock and disbelief that after nearly five months of being held captive, I was now looking into the eyes of the former leader of the free world and telling him our story. I wanted him to know how sorry I was that all of this had happened, but that I hoped his meeting with Kim Jong Il might have a positive impact on the state of U.S.–North Korean relations.
I told the president that we knew for certain we were going home when we saw the photo of him and Kim Jong Il on the evening news. I commented on Kim’s beaming grin compared with his stoic expression.
“I had to practice that,” he said, smiling. “Seriously, I wanted to be very careful not to smile or smirk. Hillary and Chelsea had to coach me.”
The president also told us one of the reasons why he thought Kim was so intent on having him make the trip. He said that during their meeting, Kim told him how much he had appreciated the phone call Clinton made to him to express his condolences when his father, Kim Il Sung, passed away in July 1994. According to Clinton, Kim told him, “You were the first one to call me, even before any of my allies, and I’ve always remembered that.”
I learned from President Clinton and his colleagues that, to their surprise, unlike other heads of state, who tend to make grand entrances with huge processions, Kim Jong Il had been accompanied by North Korean authorities who seemed very relaxed around the Dear Leader. When Kim arrived to greet President Clinton, the first thing he said, with great passion and confidence, was “I’ve always wanted to meet you.”
President Clinton commented on how important it was to have Dr. Roger Band present because he could evaluate the North Korean leader with a medical eye. According to Dr. Band, one of Kim’s arms, which appeared to be immovable, seemed to indicate the effects of having a stroke. Clinton commented on how lucid Kim appeared despite his questionable health.
Apparently, when Clinton’s team first arrived, a North Korean woman official rushed up to the group and asked about a letter from President Obama that she expected the group to have. I learned that delivering a letter from Obama had been part of previous conversations having to do with visits by other potential envoys, but it was never discussed or agreed upon as part of Clinton’s visit. During the former president’s trip to Pyongyang, no letter was delivered and no gifts were exchanged, save for a bouquet of flowers that was presented to Clinton as a welcoming gesture.
It is hard to overstate just how unique and momentous Clinton’s visit was. Unlike a typical meeting that includes the former president, where his staff carefully crafts and prepares his schedule and security detail, visiting North Korea is like entering a black hole. There are no guarantees. While the former president always travels with Secret Service protection, the seven men accompanying Clinton had to take extra special precautions. The Clinton team, the Department of State, the White House, the U.S. Secret Service, and other U.S. agencies had to manage an extraordinary set of challenges and meticulously plan for best-and worst-case scenarios in order to pull off a kind of trip that had never been made before. On the plane I could see the loads of black bags that contained various communication devices and other equipment specially chosen by the Secret Service agents for this trip. I was told that while Clinton and his team stayed in a palatial guesthouse with ornately manicured grounds, one Secret Service agent stayed on the plane along with the two pilots for the entirety of the visit so as to make sure the plane was secure.
I was grateful to the former president and his team for all they had done for Euna and me. Since their visit to the so-called Hermit Kingdom was unprecedented, they were operating in unknown territory. I couldn’t imagine the enormity of the risks involved and what they had to prepare for. I appreciated hearin
g some of what went on, but I know there was a great deal that happened in preparation and on the ground that I didn’t know about.
It was fascinating to hear President Clinton’s assessment of the reclusive Kim and his account of the balancing act he and his staff had to perform during their visit. He told us about the two-page itinerary that had been planned for his team upon arrival, including visits to various monuments. They politely excused themselves from the activities, saying they were too fatigued from the traveling.
Before President Clinton met us at the hotel, he and his staff were taken to a meeting with a high-ranking official, who, yelling at the top of his lungs, went into a tirade about how terrible the United States is and how much damage President George W. Bush had done.
Later that morning, John Podesta, Doug Band, David Straub, and Min Ji Kwon went to a separate “apology ceremony,” which took place in the colossal guesthouse. President Clinton did not attend this portion of the itinerary. For safety reasons, the team made sure that no person was ever alone at any given time, so Clinton’s top aide Justin Cooper stayed behind with the president in his stately quarters. The ceremony involved more irate North Korean authorities bashing the United States and chastising Euna and me for our crimes. Clinton’s team bit their tongues, smiled politely, and apologized for Euna’s and my actions. They had one objective, and that was to get us home.
Aside from these formal bursts of outrage, the North Korean officials escorting Clinton and his crew were generally courteous and hospitable. Originally, the plan had been for only John Podesta and Doug Band to meet Euna and me at the hotel, but when President Clinton requested to see us, the North Koreans obliged.
The Dear Leader hosted a dinner for President Clinton and his colleagues that was also attended by North Korea’s nuclear negotiator Kim Kye-Gwan, among others. The elaborate fourteen-course meal included steaks, fine French wine, and an entire fish for each person. It was clear the North Koreans had gone to extreme lengths to put together the lavish affair. During the meal, Doug Band quietly stepped out to call Secretary Clinton’s counselor and chief of staff, Cheryl Mills, on the satellite phone the team had brought along. It was the only communication made between one of the Americans on the ground in North Korea and the United States. He wanted to let Mills know that they were alive and well.