Euna Lee - The World Is Bigger Now: An American Journalists Release from Captivity in North Korea . . . A Remarkable Story of Faith, Family, and Forgiveness

Copyright 2010 by Euna Lee

All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Broadway Books, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York. www.crownpublishing.com

BROADWAY BOOKS and the Broadway Books colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Photo on Jina Lee.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Lee, Euna.
The world is bigger now: an American journalists release from captivity in
North Korea a remarkable story of faith, family, and forgiveness/Euna Lee
with Lisa Dickey. 1st ed.
p. cm.
1. Lee, EunaCaptivity, 2009. 2. HostagesKorea (North) 3. Journalists
Korea (North) 4. AmericansKorea (North) 5. Korea (North)Politics and
government1994 6. JournalistsUnited StatesBiography.
I. Dickey, Lisa. II. Title.
PN4874.L364A3 2010
070.92dc22
[B] 2010019833

eISBN: 978-0-307-71615-6

v3.1

For my husband, Michael, who helps me to stand firm in my faith
For my daughter, Hana, who softens my heart
with her carefree heart
And for her brother and sister, who we hope will come.

The names and identifying details of some individuals and locations in this book have been changed to protect their identities. Quoted dialogue in the book is based on the authors recollections.

A T AROUND 5 A.M. ON M ARCH 17, 2009, the sun had not yet risen over the Tumen River in northeast China. The morning was absolutely still; the only sound I could hear was the rustling of foliage under my feet as I made my way toward the riverbank. I had overslept that morning, so we were running latewed have to hurry to get the footage we needed before the sun rose. The Tumen River formed the border between North Korea and China, and it wasnt safe to film there in the daylight when we might be seen.

I had come to the river with my Current TV colleagues Laura Ling and Mitch Koss, as well as a local guide. Wed parked a short distance away, and as we walked from the car to the rivers edge, I was already shooting footage for our planned documentary about North Korean defectors. In my viewfinder, with the aid of night vision, I could see Laura and Mitchs feet as they walked across the dry, tangled brush.

No one else was around when we arrived at the river. It was about sixty yards wide, pale blue with ice all the way across, with only brown branches of trees and brush on each side. The still winter air painfully chilled our ears as we looked out over the ice. This could have been any river outside of any town, except that the other side of the water was North Korea.

With its long stretches of uninhabited riverbank, the Tumen was a natural place for North Korean defectors to cross over in search of a better life. Years of famine in North Korea, and the oppressive political situation there, had led hundreds of thousands of people to try to flee the country, and many of them crossed in places just like the one where we now stood. As part of our planned documentary about these defectors, we wanted to show this important route of escape.

Mitch and I would do the filming, and Laura would be in front of the camera, doing the reporting. Our guide, a man in his thirties who had worked with the underground railroad support network for defectors, would point out landmarks and suggest places to film.

Just as the sun began to peek over the horizon, our guide, wearing a Chinese police coat he had borrowed from a friend, walked onto the translucent ice. It was absolutely quiet, and I couldnt see movement of any kind on the other side of the river. It was also freezing; stepping onto the ice, I couldnt help but think how cold and frightened anyone trying to cross from the North Korean side would be.

As we followed the guide toward the middle of the river, Mitch said, Be careful, I hear ice cracking. Mitch was heavier than Laura or me, and he seemed nervous. I was nervous too, but I was mostly focused on getting the best footage we could. We had very limited time in China and South Korea, so we had all been working incredibly hard to get the material we needed for the documentary. Walking on the ice made me nervous, but I figured the guide must know whether it was safe or not. I trusted him.

When we got close to the middle of the river, the guide suddenly began making a low hooting sound. It was a signal of some kind, but for whom? We assumed he must be communicating with the North Korean border guards he knew. Wed heard that some North Korean guards were in contact with people in China, and some had supposedly even spoken to foreign journalists who crossed this same river in search of interviews. We were definitely alert, but not fearful. Not yet.

The guide continued to make hooting sounds, but there was no response from the other side. So he kept going. We followed him, and when we neared the middle of the river, I filmed Laura doing a standupa monologue in which she spoke directly into the camera, describing where we were and how defectors crossed the river. I then shot footage of her walking on the ice as I followed from behind.

We shot another standup so Laura could describe how close the two countries were. But when I paused to show her the digital footage, we realized the shot didnt really show how narrow the river was. Wait here, I said to Laura. Ill go back and get a wide shot of you standing on the ice.

But as I started walking back toward the Chinese riverbank, the guide told me to stop. Dont go back there, he said. The ice is thin, it might break. The ice didnt seem any thinner there, but the guide insisted and I didnt have time to arguethe sun was coming up and we needed to move fast. So, reluctantly, I walked back to the middle of the river to rejoin the others.

At that point, the guide motioned for us to follow him past the midpoint of the riverand as we crossed into North Korean territory, my heart began to pound. I knew this was a risky move, but I was so intent on getting the story out, I didnt focus on the potential danger. So, at the guides urging, we followed him farther, all the way to the North Korean riverbank.

He pointed to a small village that looked like it was frozen in time, a collection of five or six huts with thatched roofs. There, he whispered, pointing.

I zoomed in to where he was pointing, and as I filmed, I knew we were glimpsing an important part of the underground railroad by which thousands of North Koreans have been smuggled into China. This was what we had traveled so far to find, the true story of people putting their lives on the line in a desperate quest for freedom. I felt exhilarated at the sight.

But it was also frightening to be on North Korean soil, so I was relieved when, after only a minute or so, we started back toward the Chinese side. The air was still and everything was quietuntil Mitchs voice suddenly pierced the air. Run! he shouted. Run! Soldiers! Startled, I turned to see two North Korean soldiers, wearing green military uniforms and holding rifles, sprinting toward us.