Somewhere Inside

by Laura Ling

  I assured my family that I was okay, that being home was all the medicine I needed. My mother and father insisted on stuffing me with food. That was the way they showed their love. I had been craving pizza, and with the first bite of a pepperoni and cheese slice I was euphoric. My mother had carefully prepared a Chinese watercress soup in anticipation of my return. It was my favorite dish and something that always made me feel better when I fell ill. With each mouthful, I felt more and more energized.

  LISA

  THE RETURN OF MY SISTER to our family was the happiest day of my life. For nearly five months, a part of me was missing. At Laura and Iain’s house, we all plunked down on the couches, transfixed by Laura’s every movement. My sister is a California girl, and I’d never seen her skin as white as it was from being locked up inside for so many months. It was obvious that she was still in a state of shock over the events of the last few days. As she said in her speech to the world earlier that morning: “Hours ago, Euna Lee and I were prisoners in North Korea. We feared that at any moment, we would be sent to a hard labor camp…. Now we stand here home and free.”

  Despite her fatigue, she recounted some of what she had gone through while in captivity. A few times, Laura would lose her train of thought or pause for moments in silence when she recalled something that hurt her. It broke our hearts to hear of the abuse she endured when she and Euna were first captured. The details caused me to have nightmares about it for days. In some of the dreams, I became very violent with those harming my sister. But at the same time, I was heartened to learn of the caring relationships that developed between some of Laura’s captors and herself.

  For decades, North Koreans have been taught to regard the United States as an enemy. Laura’s stories were a testament to what happens when people are able to interact with others on a human-to-human level. When one is given the opportunity to look another person in the eye, irrespective of preconceived ideas about each other, things can often change, perspectives can widen. Though Laura is my little sister, I was in awe of how she handled herself in captivity.

  Our family stayed at Laura and Iain’s house until well into the night. We didn’t want to be away from Laura for a second, but at the same time, we wanted Laura to have some private time with Iain, who had been quiet for much of the day. He just listened intently to his wife while lovingly stroking her hair and kissing her head.

  When she called me first thing in the morning and said, “Hi, Li, it’s me,” I had to pause for a second and pinch myself, because Laura was calling from twenty minutes away, not a world away. Tears started streaming from my eyes when she said, “Come over!” It was only 6 A.M. I rushed to her house, and later that morning my mom and I planned to take her to see our family physician, Dr. Basil. We were very concerned about the trauma from the blows she’d received to her head.

  It was a great relief to hear Dr. Basil say that Laura looked like she was recovering just fine and he didn’t think that any permanent damage had been done.

  At the doctor’s office, my mom and I stepped outside to use our phones while Laura was checked out. When I came back inside, I saw that the doctor had been briefly called away to deal with something and Laura was in the room by herself. The door was slightly ajar, and I saw my sister sitting alone against the wall. She had her head so far down that her chin was practically touching her chest. I immediately flashed back to the story she told about the officials shining a light in her face to make sure she was closing her eyes and looking down whenever she was being transported around North Korea. As I looked at her sitting like that, a sadness filled me. I went in and lifted up her chin and said, “Baby Girl, you never have to do that again.”

  I thought about something our God-fearing grandmother told us when we were children: “When people are in trouble, they always look down, or to the left or right. All they need to do is look up, and eventually everything will be okay.”

  LAURA

  THE FIRST FEW MONTHS of being home were an adjustment period. It took me several weeks after my return to feel fully comfortable while speaking freely and openly. My family didn’t want to leave my side, and I didn’t want to be alone. Lisa came over to our house daily. She still does.

  Even though many people were eager to know what happened during our time in captivity, all I wanted to do was hibernate. I was also uncomfortable that my experience had become the focus instead of the plight of the North Korean defectors who have endured so much and whose basic freedoms continue to be denied. I spent weeks not wanting to leave my house—a kind of self-imposed isolation.

  In my first few days at home, I made phone calls to various volunteers around the country who had organized vigils for Euna and me. It was touching to hear why some of these people, many of them complete strangers, got involved. David Ly from Los Angeles told me, “We’re Americans. We had to bring you home.” Meghan Miller Jedrzejczyk from Portland explained that she had lost a daughter and felt compelled to do something: “When your sister decided to share her voice, I saw her strength and was inspired to help,” she said over the phone.

  I broke into tears when I first spoke with Brendan Creamer, the main vigil organizer, who had amassed a network of people on Facebook to get involved. Lisa had written about what a force Brendan had been in her letters to me. He explained that while he didn’t know Lisa, he had seen her work and was a friend of hers on Facebook. “I felt I had to do something more than just say, ‘Hope things get better,’” he said. Brendan and these countless other guardian angels have since become members of our extended family.

  A LITTLE MORE THAN two months after my return, I started feeling some slight shooting pains in my abdomen. I wondered if it might be related to my ulcer. But for some reason, these bouts didn’t feel like typical flare-ups. I figured it was indigestion and popped a couple of Tums to relieve the discomfort. Then, one bright Saturday morning, it suddenly hit me.

  Could it really be possible? I wondered.

  Iain was out surfing with his buddies, but I was too curious to wait for him to come home. I rushed out to the drugstore and bought a home pregnancy test.

  I paced around in our bathroom, checking my watch to see when two minutes had passed so that I could read the results. I picked up the test and looked at the small round screen. A plus sign was staring back at me. I was pregnant. Iain and I were going to have a baby. I was overwhelmed with excitement. For so long I had resisted the idea of starting a family. I felt too busy and was occupied with my own issues. Now I looked at being pregnant as an incredible blessing and a miracle. I couldn’t wait to tell Iain. I grabbed my phone and sent him a text message: “When r u coming home? I have a surprise 4 u.”

  Iain got back about an hour later. His face was darkened from the sun and he smelled of salt water. “What’s this surprise?” he said curiously.

  “It’s on your dresser,” I replied.

  Grinning, he raised one eyebrow and headed for our bedroom. I followed along, not wanting to miss his reaction. When he got to the dresser, he picked up the white plastic wand-shaped tester and brought it closer to his face to inspect it.

  “Is this for real? Is this what I think it means?” I could see that tears were starting to form in his eyes.

  I nodded excitedly. “We’re going to have a baby,” I declared.

  He rushed over to kiss me and instantly began rubbing my belly. We held each other, laughing and crying all at once.

  It’s hard to believe that in one year, I was sentenced to twelve years of hard labor, and in the same year, the love of my life and I conceived a child. I thought back to the early days of my captivity when I both feared and hoped I might be pregnant. I had spent many sad nights anguishing over the idea that Iain and I would never have the chance to have children. Now those thoughts seem like a distant nightmare. In just a few months, we will be welcoming a new baby girl into our family. We plan on calling her Li.

  epilogue

  LAURA

  FROM THE TIME OF my captivity an
d since I returned home, I have spent a lot of time reflecting on the events of March 17, when I made the tragic decision to step foot onto North Korean soil. A number of factors led up to that ominous moment, which included not only my desire to tell the most powerful story but also the trust we placed in a guide who, at the time, seemed reliable and cautious. But in the end, there are no excuses.

  You can plan and prepare, but when real-life events unfold, sometimes you have to go with your gut and hope you are right. On that gloomy, frigid morning, my instincts were wrong and the implications were enormous. For 140 days, I lived in utter terror, not knowing if I would ever see my family again; I subjected the people I love most to the nightmare of their lives; I caused the U.S. government to spend valuable time trying to secure our release; and I may have put the brave North Korean defectors who shared their stories with us in more danger than they already were. These demons haunted me throughout my captivity and continue to do so today.

  Every day now I reflect on how fortunate I am to be home. I recognize the unique circumstances that contributed to our release, including having a former vice president as the chairman of the company I work for and a sister with influential connections in the media world. Many people do not have these kinds of ties. In fact, countless journalists and filmmakers remain behind bars today simply for trying to expose the truth. It is important that we keep them in our thoughts and prayers.

  I hope something positive can come out of the story of my and Euna’s captivity, including an increased awareness of what’s happening along the Chinese–North Korean border. North Korean defectors have endured unimaginable hardships and suffering within their homeland and beyond its borders, and their stories are in grave need of attention.

  I often think about the people I met during my captivity. I wonder what Mr. Yee, Mr. Baek, Min-Jin, Kyung-Hee, Paris, and the others are doing and what kind of lives they are living. Have they gone back to their old jobs? Is their patriotism for their country as fervent as it was before? Did their experience with me change their views of Americans or the United States in any way? I will always be grateful for the glimmers of compassion and humanity they showed me, and I hope one day they and their fellow North Koreans are allowed the freedom to determine their own destiny.

  LISA

  WHAT HAPPENED TO MY SISTER and Euna Lee makes me more eager than ever to make sure people know about the colossal humanitarian crisis inside North Korea and on its border with China. My sister’s team was silenced from telling the story, but those who’ve risked their lives to escape dire conditions in North Korea continue to find themselves in another kind of tragic uncertainty in China. There are literally thousands of people who live in the shadows, unable to be free in China because they fear being caught and repatriated to North Korea, where they would face near certain death. Their stories are heartbreaking.

  Though my sister’s ordeal was the most trying of her life and our family’s lives, I am proud of what Laura was doing. But just because she’s home doesn’t mean the story is over. I am reminded of the importance of journalists out in the world, often away from their own families, because they are determined to bring these stories to light. The only way things can change is for people to change them. But people cannot change things they don’t know about. It’s the job of journalists to raise awareness about what’s happening in the world. And there are so many stories to tell.

  Anyone interested in helping the people who’ve made it out of North Korea should support an organization called Liberty in North Korea, or LiNK, a terrific group that works to provide better livelihoods for refugees. They are on the front lines trying to bring attention to this human crisis. Their website is www.linkglobal.org.

  Our family was also helped tremendously by two organizations that work to ensure that the rights of journalists are protected and not squelched by governments. They are the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), www.cpj.org, and Reporters Without Borders (RSF), www.rsf.org. Both CPJ and RSF were our voices when we could not speak due to the sensitivities involved.

  FINALLY, WE BOTH WANT to address the government of North Korea:

  Should anyone from your government read this book, we want you to know that though we have unique but independent perspectives on North Korea, neither of us ever had any malicious intentions when visiting your country. We just firmly believe in the fundamental right of people to be free.

  We met some extraordinary individuals in your country and they treated us with kindness. For that we will be forever grateful. We truly hope that one day your people will be able to experience the kind of freedom all human beings deserve.

  Sincerely,

  Laura Ling and Lisa Ling

  Just because many people have asked…

  MOM’S SPECIAL WATERCRESS SOUP RECIPE

  1 whole chicken breast with bones

  2 pork ribs

  4 to 6 dried red dates

  1/4 cup dried almonds

  2 to 4 small dried cuttlefish (optional)

  2 bunches of watercress

  1/4 cup goji berries

  Salt

  1. Blanch the chicken and pork for approximately 1 to 2 minutes.

  2. Bring a pot of water (approximately 10 cups) to a boil. Place the chicken, pork ribs, red dates, dried almonds, and cuttlefish (if using) in the pot and bring to a boil again.

  3. Turn the heat to low and simmer for another 3 to 4 hours.

  4. Remove the bones from the stock. Add the watercress and goji berries.

  5. Bring to a boil, then turn the heat down and cook for another 30 minutes. Add salt to taste.

  acknowledgments

  WE HAVE SPENT COUNTLESS hours trying to think of every person who helped in the effort to bring Laura and Euna home. We’ve tried to come up with all of the names, but inevitably there will be some we have forgotten. For that we are deeply sorry. Know that every prayer and positive thought was incredibly helpful and meant the world to us. So thank you.

  First, we must acknowledge our loving parents, Douglas Ling and Mary Ling. We opened up elements of your pasts that you probably didn’t ever want exposed. We deeply appreciate your willingness to let us share parts of your life—particularly the challenging parts. We would not be the women we are if it weren’t for everything you’ve done for us. We thank you, Dad and Mom, for your unconditional love and support.

  The same goes for our husbands. Iain and Paul, we are so lucky to have such incredible partners in life.

  We thank all of the members of our huge family distant and close.

  To our editor, Henry Ferris, and his colleagues at William Morrow, HarperCollins: We knew from the moment we met you that we wanted to work with you. Isn’t it funny how that works? Henry, we just adore you. Danny Goldstein, thanks for helping with research. And many thanks to Seale Ballenger and Brianne Halverson for expertly handling the publicity.

  To Suzanne Gluck, Henry Reisch, Jon Rosen, Cary Berman, Ari Emmanuel, and all of our other friends at William Morris Endeavor: Thanks for always having our back. Suzanne, what a tiny but powerful force you are.

  To Vice President Al Gore and Joel Hyatt: Thank you for providing the opportunity to raise awareness about stories that need to be told. Thank you for your relentless efforts to bring Laura and Euna home.

  To the Current TV family and the Vanguard team: Thank you for your love and friendship. Your work continues to be an inspiration to many. Adam Yamaguchi: Thank you for the invaluable support you provided to our family.

  To Ambassador Mats Foyer and Johan Eidman: Thank you for your unwavering persistence and your kind hearts.

  To our little crisis management team of Alanna Zahn, Jeff Rose, and Morgan Wandell: Words cannot express how much we appreciate all of the time and effort you expended to help us. We love you deeply.

  To the entire Chopra family: Thank you for helping to keep Laura and Euna’s story in the press. Gotham and Mallika, your friendship means everything to us. Thank you for helping us with Care2, Good, C
ausecast, Beliefnet, Huffington Post, and AC360.

  To the lauraandeuna.com team of Morgan Wandell, Andy Cheatwood, Grant Kindrick, Lisa Chudnofsky, Cindy Lin, Jennifer Fader, and Chris Mendez: Thank you for donating your valuable time to build the most beautiful website. With your help, we collected more than one hundred thousand signatures on the petition to the government of North Korea.

  John and Amy Jo Gottfurcht and the team at SSI: Thank you for your constant support of Iain and our family.

  Han Park, Evans Revere, David Kim, and Selig Harrison: Thank you for your concern and counsel.

  Thank you to all of the friends from past and present who wrote to Laura while she was in captivity. Your words and stories provided hope and strength when she needed it the most.

  Thank you, Dr. Basil and Shirley Vassantachart, and those at the Loma Linda University Medical School. We love you, Dr. Basil and Shirley. Thank you for always taking care of our family.

  To Ron Olsen and Lawrence Barth of Munger, Tolles and Olsen: Thank you for your generosity, time, and wise counsel.

  To Charles, Lorraine, Hannah, Jill, and the rest of the Clayton family: Thank you for being our U.K. headquarters and for sending parcels regularly to Pyongyang.

  To our dear friends Jean Roh, Phil Hong, and Rick and Erin Piller: We are so grateful for the love and support you gave to Laura, Iain, and our family. Your friendship means the world to us.

  To President Bill Clinton, Doug Band, John Podesta, Justin Cooper, David Straub, Min Ji Kwon, the U.S. Secret Service, and the pilots and crew who traveled so far to bring Euna and Laura home: Thank you for undertaking an unprecedented mission that was so full of uncertainty. We are eternally grateful.