THE NEXT DAY, MR. Y YEE asked me to recall what I had said during my meeting with the amba.s.sador. I tried to go over the conversation, emphasizing that I had told the amba.s.sador I was sorry for my actions and was very remorseful. But Mr. Yee just scowled. asked me to recall what I had said during my meeting with the amba.s.sador. I tried to go over the conversation, emphasizing that I had told the amba.s.sador I was sorry for my actions and was very remorseful. But Mr. Yee just scowled.

"Why did you tell him you were apprehended in China?" he scolded. "What did you think you would accomplish by telling him that? My bosses are very upset with you!"

"I am so sorry," I said, my voice shaking in fear. "I didn't mean to anger anyone. I was just telling the amba.s.sador what had happened, and that is what happened."

Exasperated, he shouted, "You violated DPRK law by coming into our country. We can chase you anywhere to arrest you. That is our right!"

"Please," I begged, "would you please let me see the amba.s.sador again? I will apologize and say anything you want me to say. I don't want to upset your bosses. I only want to be cooperative."

"Do you think you can just see the amba.s.sador anytime you wish?" he continued. "We gave you a courtesy visit. We don't need to let you see him again."

I felt like I'd just been punched in the face. I was afraid I had squandered any future chance of seeing Amba.s.sador Foyer. Nearly two long months would pa.s.s before I was allowed to see him again.

GETTING THROUGH EVERY MINUTE of each day was a psychological battle. Power and water outages were frequent, and sleep became a challenge, with frequent nightmares. Some nights I would dream I was back at home but had only twenty-four hours to get the U.S. government to sign a peace treaty with North Korea and remove our troops from the border or I would be sent back to Pyongyang to face my execution. I also had recurring nightmares of Euna being tortured by cruel soldiers. Often I'd wake up in a panicky sweat. of each day was a psychological battle. Power and water outages were frequent, and sleep became a challenge, with frequent nightmares. Some nights I would dream I was back at home but had only twenty-four hours to get the U.S. government to sign a peace treaty with North Korea and remove our troops from the border or I would be sent back to Pyongyang to face my execution. I also had recurring nightmares of Euna being tortured by cruel soldiers. Often I'd wake up in a panicky sweat.

To calm my nerves, I hummed the words to the song "Edelweiss" from The Sound of Music, The Sound of Music, which my mom used to sing to Lisa and me as kids to put us to sleep. which my mom used to sing to Lisa and me as kids to put us to sleep. Just stay healthy and hopeful, Just stay healthy and hopeful, I would tell myself, given my ulcer. But as optimistic as I tried to be, I was frustrated by how helpless I felt. I would tell myself, given my ulcer. But as optimistic as I tried to be, I was frustrated by how helpless I felt.

One day, not too long after the meeting with Amba.s.sador Foyer, Mr. Yee brought two blue satchels. He put them on the desk in front of me and said the amba.s.sador had sent me some items. In the bags were a toothbrush, toothpaste, feminine products, and snacks such as potato chips, bread, peanut b.u.t.ter, chocolates, and a six-pack of Coca-Cola. Mr. Yee then brought out some medication that had been sent by the U.S. Emba.s.sy from the Beijing Hospital, including medicine for my ulcer. I'd already experienced several ulcer flare-ups. The area just above my abdomen would burn in pain. I was grateful to have something to alleviate these throbbing episodes. But what I wanted most were the books. The interrogator pulled out a collection of cla.s.sic novels including Mark Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Faulkner's Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury, The Sound and the Fury, Hemingway's Hemingway's The Snows of Kilimanjaro, The Snows of Kilimanjaro, the entire works of Jane Austen, and Ian McEwan's the entire works of Jane Austen, and Ian McEwan's Atonement Atonement. There was a letter from Amba.s.sador Foyer along with the books, explaining that the U.S. Emba.s.sy in Beijing had selected the novels. The constant, day-after-day interrogations and isolation had left me desperate for some sort of escape. But to my dismay, Mr. Yee returned the books to the bag and pushed it aside.

"Can I please have a book, just one?" I pleaded.

"You are under investigation," he retorted. "You need to be thinking about your crime, not reading. Also, we cannot guarantee the safety of all of these items, especially the food. While I'm sure the amba.s.sador has good intentions, these things have changed hands many times. There are people in your government who may want you dead so the U.S. can start a war with us. We cannot trust that these items are safe." He put the food back in the bag, leaving me with the basic toiletries and medication.

LISA.

AT THE END of the first letter we wrote to Laura, all my family members signed their full names. I just wrote "Li." While this is what Laura always called me, I didn't want to use my full name because I feared that direct a.s.sociation with me might be dangerous for her. Even in the weekly packages Iain would later send to her, he never included any photographs of me. We didn't want to give my sister's captors any kind of reminder of what I had done there. of the first letter we wrote to Laura, all my family members signed their full names. I just wrote "Li." While this is what Laura always called me, I didn't want to use my full name because I feared that direct a.s.sociation with me might be dangerous for her. Even in the weekly packages Iain would later send to her, he never included any photographs of me. We didn't want to give my sister's captors any kind of reminder of what I had done there.

Amba.s.sador Foyer was told that our letter had been delivered to Laura, and he communicated to Linda that if we wanted to continue sending letters through him, he would drop them off right away to offices of the Foreign Ministry. He told her he was surprised that the North Koreans said they would pa.s.s on the letters to the girls. Linda is convinced that our respectful and apologetic tone in the first letter opened the way for future letters to be delivered to Laura.

I started writing to my sister every other day, if not every day. In each letter, I addressed her with the same greeting I'd used for her all our lives-"Dear Baby Girl..." Every letter I wrote was crafted with extreme caution. I never lost sight of the fact that the words I wrote would likely be read by multiple people. I missed my sister so much that the letters were painfully hard to write. I would stare at the blank screen for half an hour at times with tears running down my face at the thought of her out there and alone. I wanted her to know that we were doing everything in our power to get her out. I encouraged her to try to still her mind and take care of her health so she wouldn't exacerbate her medical condition. Sometimes I tried to be funny. I told her that every one of my ex-boyfriends had called or e-mailed to check on me and offer support. Even in captivity I knew she'd laugh about one guy in particular whom she loathed and made me break up with.

At times I was so angry I wanted to make threats to those reading my letters. Once I wrote that I was preparing to mobilize thousands of people from all over the world, using Facebook, to walk across the ChineseNorth Korean border if my sister weren't let go. My husband promptly scolded me before I could hit SEND SEND. Thank goodness he stopped me. Paul was always making sure that I acted reasonably and not irrationally. There was just too much at risk. So most of the time I tried to comfort Laura in my letters and take her back to some of the fun times we'd shared together.

IN ONE LETTER, I WROTE WROTE:.

Dear Baby Girl,Every day I think about how you are spending your days: do you go outside, can you watch TV, do you talk to anyone?...I was thinking of the days before my wedding when you and I went to get a spray tan. Remember when we stood there in the buck while that woman sprayed every inch of us? There we were in our shower caps, freezing and laughing...I love you so much, Baby Girl, and am desperately hoping that the government of NK will show mercy and allow you to come home...I need you and I will not stop until you are home with me.I love you more than anything in the world, Li As hard as they were to write, these letters were the only way I could communicate with my best friend. They were my way of letting my sister know that I was fighting for her. I never got enough courage to use my full name at the end of any of my letters so I continued to sign off as "Li."

LAURA.

ALTHOUGH I WAS SUBJECTED to hours-long interrogations almost every day, there were stretches, usually over the weekends, when Mr. Yee didn't come to see me. I didn't know for sure, but I suspected Mr. Baek and Mr. Yee were staying at the compound because they would appear at different hours of the day and night. Their absence during the weekends indicated to me that this was when they went home to their families. to hours-long interrogations almost every day, there were stretches, usually over the weekends, when Mr. Yee didn't come to see me. I didn't know for sure, but I suspected Mr. Baek and Mr. Yee were staying at the compound because they would appear at different hours of the day and night. Their absence during the weekends indicated to me that this was when they went home to their families.

During these periods, I'd sit in utter silence. Though Min-Jin had become less approachable after our conversation about music and dating, I tried to reignite some sort of relationship with her and Kyung-Hee. Min-Jin was trying to get better at speaking English, and she often had her head buried in a thick Korean-English dictionary. Kyung-Hee was studying Mandarin Chinese and sometimes read words and sentences out loud. Fortunately, my very elementary knowledge of Mandarin was more advanced than what she was reviewing. I told them I'd be happy to help them with both their English and their Chinese.

This created an opening, because they were both determined to improve their language skills, and they began to look at me as a rare and valuable resource. I was a live tutor, available to them twenty-four hours a day.

Once, while I was walking around my room for exercise, Min-Jin started following me as she practiced some new words she had just learned. "Toothbrush," she said out loud, though it came out sounding more like "toosebrush." Native Korean speakers often have a difficult time p.r.o.nouncing the th th sound, which is nonexistent in the Korean language. I mouthed the sound sound, which is nonexistent in the Korean language. I mouthed the sound th th several times, showing her how the tongue touches the front teeth. She repeated the sound as we walked around the room in circles. It was little moments like these that I came to delight in, making simple connections with these girls on a human level, not as guard and captor, or as enemies. several times, showing her how the tongue touches the front teeth. She repeated the sound as we walked around the room in circles. It was little moments like these that I came to delight in, making simple connections with these girls on a human level, not as guard and captor, or as enemies.

One day when I was helping Min-Jin learn some new English words and phrases, she said to me with a grin, "Peace out!"

I was surprised to hear such a colloquial expression come out of her mouth. "Right on," I replied, holding my fingers out in a peace sign. "Peace out!"

"I understand 'peace out' is the liquid from the p.e.n.i.s, but what about the other thing, the nonliquid?" she asked.

I was perplexed. I had no clue what she was talking about. I enunciated the words "peace out" slowly, trying to see what other words she could be saying. "Oh! p.i.s.s out!" I exclaimed.

"Yes! p.i.s.s out!" she responded. "But what is the other thing. I think it is called 's.h.i.t'?"

I burst out laughing. "Where did you learn these words?" I asked.

"From the movie Big Daddy, Big Daddy," she said. She told me she hadn't seen the movie but had read the screenplay in college. "We read movie scripts to learn English," she explained. I chuckled while I imagined a new generation of North Korean youth quoting Adam Sandler flicks.

Min-Jin also told me about a teacher she had in college who was very mean and strict. "We called him Bush," she said, laughing. "If we don't like someone we call them Bush after your former president."

One day Hyung-Yee came back from a break carrying a bunch of acacia flowers and leaves that she'd collected around the compound. The pungent aroma of the fuchsia-colored bouquet quickly filled the room. I breathed in deeply and closed my eyes, trying to take in as much of the sweet-smelling odor as possible. Hyung-Yee, spotting how affected I was by the presence of these beautiful flowers, plucked off a stem and handed it to me. I was grateful for this simple act of kindness and placed the stem beside my bed, hoping the fragrance would spread across the room.

Along with walking circles in my room, I did some basic yoga stretches. Every day, as I contorted my body or dropped to the ground in a pose, Min-Jin and Hyung-Yee would watch me, while making sure they weren't staring. One evening, when the power was out and a single flashlight illuminated the guards' area, they, along with two of the compound's women caretakers, quietly asked me to teach them some yoga moves. I was happy to oblige. I began with some deep-breathing exercises. Then I raised my arms high above my head and bent my body to one side. They followed in unison as we stretched first to the right and then to the left like trees swaying in the wind. I closed my eyes and thought about how nice it felt to be a part of something; that we were all sharing in one another's energy. Suddenly Hyung-Yee lost her balance and fell over. We broke into laughter. But this lightheartedness didn't last long. The mood quickly changed with Hyung-Yee's tumble, and the caretakers and guards a.s.sumed their usual formal and reserved personas. It was as if they had been caught doing something prohibited. They never asked me to show them any more poses.

The guards had a television in their quarters, and they watched it daily. I was told I could watch television whenever it was on, but I was often repelled by the continuous blare of military propaganda. The majority of the programs are black-and-white films that demonize the United States and lionize the North Korean regime during the Korean War. News segments are devoted to praising Kim Jong Il's leadership. The Dear Leader is regularly featured presiding over the opening of a new factory or the building of a school, and the screen is filled with shots of fertile fields, booming chicken factories, and military celebrations.

I became familiar with the Communist revolutionary songs and videos that played throughout the day. Sometimes Min-Jin would translate the meaning of the lyrics. If one of these songs spoke of love, it was most likely about love of country or for the common purpose of building a workers' paradise, but never about romantic love. Most performers on TV sang along with an orchestra, violinist, or accordion player. The songs were traditional and cla.s.sical in nature, in line with North Korea's conservative society. One especially popular musical group was a four-man acoustic guitar ensemble from the national army. While they sang the same songs I'd been hearing over and over, they did so with a folksy tw.a.n.g while strumming their guitars in unison. When the quartet appeared on television, dressed in their pristine green military uniforms and with perfectly coifed hair, the guards in the room would swoon. It seemed that even the strictest of cultures had its own boy bands.

The weekend programs offered slightly more variety, and I found myself looking forward to Sundays at 5:20 P.M., P.M., when two segments of the cartoon when two segments of the cartoon Tom and Jerry Tom and Jerry aired for a total of ten minutes. If I was in my room during this time, the guards would shout, "Miss Laura! aired for a total of ten minutes. If I was in my room during this time, the guards would shout, "Miss Laura! Tom and Jerry Tom and Jerry!" It was the only show I could understand, because it has no dialogue. Tom just chases Jerry, day after day.

Watching the cat and mouse duo reminded me of a doc.u.mentary a colleague of mine produced about the prisoners at Guantanamo Bay. Their favorite thing to watch was also Tom and Jerry Tom and Jerry. How appropriate, How appropriate, I thought. I thought. The shenanigans between this mischievous cat and mouse seem to be a universal favorite for prisoners the world over, including myself. The shenanigans between this mischievous cat and mouse seem to be a universal favorite for prisoners the world over, including myself.

I also made it a point to watch an international news program that aired every Sunday at 7:30 P.M P.M. Many of the reports focused on the U.S. military campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan and the botched missions, such as a U.S. bomb that killed civilians. The declining U.S. economy and the fall of the Detroit auto industry were also highlighted. Wars, conflicts, and poverty in other countries were shown, as were natural disasters around the world. The North Korean media programmers seemed determined to show a world of fighting and chaos that was worse off than its own.

One night in early April, while I was eating dinner and Min-Jin was lying on the couch, her eyes half-shut during the local news, a report came on that caught her attention. I looked over at the screen and saw something blasting off into s.p.a.ce. A Korean news commentator proudly narrated the sequence of events. Min-Jin sat up and glued her eyes to the television set, holding her hands to her mouth.

"What was that?" I asked.

She waved her hand in a hushing gesture, not wanting to miss a moment.

After watching the image replay for a third time, she turned to me beaming. "My country just launched a satellite. It is a very proud day."

My stomach turned. I knew this would most certainly complicate my situation.

"Wow, that's great," I lied. "You must be very happy."

I wiped up the area where I'd been eating, went into my room, and crawled into bed. I wondered how the U.S. government and the United Nations Security Council would react to this defiant act. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep as music from the North Korean military choir blared from the television set.

CHAPTER FIVE.

the confession LISA.

ON A APRIL 4, 2009, at approximately 10:30 at approximately 10:30 P.M P.M. eastern standard time, the media began reporting that North Korea had just launched a long-range missile. We were gathered at my mom's house, with our stomachs in our throats, as we listened to the reports that North Korea had proclaimed its "peaceful" launch of a satellite into orbit. The Obama administration and regional governments like j.a.pan and South Korea immediately charged North Korea with provocation and a violation of UN Security Council Resolution 1718, which expressly prohibits North Korea from conducting ballistic missilerelated activities of any kind. Many in the global community were a.s.sailing North Korea for recklessness, and the United Nations Security Council convened an emergency session to figure out how to deal with its behavior.

UN Secretary General Ban Ki Moon, who is from South Korea, said: "With this provocative act, North Korea has ignored its international obligations, rejected unequivocal calls for restraint, and further isolated itself from the community of nations. I urge North Korea to abide fully by the resolutions of the UN Security Council and to refrain from further provocative actions."

North Korea responded by a.s.serting that it would pull out of the six-party talks if new sanctions were imposed on it. This meant that the country already considered the most isolated on the planet was threatening to turn inward even more. And for my family, this was happening while North Korea was holding my sister captive.

All these actions filled me with anxiety as I wondered what this would mean for the girls. Would this global denouncement make the North Korean government even more aggressive? In light of what was happening, we worried that the government might find more ways to use Laura and Euna as bargaining chips. We had to figure out how to separate the issues. We didn't want to entangle our situation with this nuclear conundrum.

This was a time when we were greatly comforted to have Governor Richardson as an adviser. In particular, he was a former U.S. amba.s.sador to the United Nations, and he was able to provide valuable insights into what was going on behind the closed doors of the United Nations Security Council's emergency session. The governor was not overly alarmed by what was happening. He was certain that neither China nor Russia, countries friendly to North Korea, would ever agree to increase sanctions against it. He fervently believed that China's and Russia's protection of North Korea meant there would never be any real possibility of punishment by the UN body. This time, however, he was wrong.

On April 13, the fifteen members of the United Nations Security Council-including China and Russia-unanimously condemned North Korea's rocket launch as a violation of a UN resolution. However, though they called for the tightening of sanctions, they did not impose them.

Even so, this very public censure rankled North Korea enough that it declared a withdrawal from the six-party talks forever. A statement from Pyongyang proclaimed that it "will never again take part in such talks and will not be bound by any agreement reached at the talks."

North Korea immediately expelled nuclear inspectors from the country and also informed the International Atomic Energy a.s.sociation that it would resume its nuclear weapons program. After that, North Korea went dark. Its leaders stopped talking to everyone, and Laura was somewhere inside.

Despite headline news stories about North Korea's nuclear tests, reporting about the girls was limited, in part because of the dire requests I'd made to news organizations to keep the profile low. Laura and Euna's company, Current TV, had also instructed all its employees to remain silent and pulled some of Laura's reports off the air and its Web site. But random individuals all over the country and the world were starting to ask questions over the Internet. "Why is there so little information about the American journalists?" some would ask.

A man in Philadelphia named Brendan Creamer, whom none of us knew, put up a page on Facebook called "Detained in North Korea: Laura Ling and Euna Lee." Thousands of supporters signed on, and Brendan provided telephone numbers and e-mail addresses of politicians, network news correspondents and executives, foreign countries' amba.s.sadors to North Korea, as well as many other contacts. He posted updates almost daily demanding that news outlets cover the story and that politicians act to get these two American journalists out of North Korea.

Another person we didn't know, Richard Horgan, began a blog and Twitter site called "Liberate Laura" that tweeted daily any and all information related to the girls and North Korea. Liberate Laura's blogs and theories about why North Korea was holding Laura and Euna were fascinating to read and also attracted thousands of followers. On July 16, the Liberate Laura blog intimated that Song Taek, the man married to Kim Jong Il's younger sister, was running the country behind the scenes and was calling the shots in my sister and Euna's case.

He wrote: It's critical when dealing with a situation like that of Ling and Lee to know, or at least be able to visualize, your opponent. So think not of an ailing Kim Jong-il or his basketball-loving third son Kim Jong-un (even though the idea of a one-on-one game of high-political-stakes-B-ball between Jong-un and President Obama has a certain appeal). Rather, envision a lifelong, healthier politician who is said to be helping prepare Jong-un for the era of the "Dearly Departed Leader."

While Liberate Laura's hypothesis turned out to be untrue, it was an interesting read nonetheless. We later learned that Brendan had been a follower of my work for years, and Richard had just recently watched Laura's reporting from Mexico and was moved by it. These two independent sites ignited a movement that led to nationwide vigils and a pet.i.tion to the North Korean government demanding the release of the girls. More than one hundred thousand people signed that pet.i.tion within days of its going online. The social networks of Facebook and Twitter became an emotional crutch for me. In addition to Brendan's and Richard's posts, thousands of people-most of whom I'd never met-were regularly expressing messages of love and hope. These people became my world.

Whenever I was out in public, people asked me about Laura. "I don't know how she is," I solemnly admitted. "I don't even know where she is." It was the truth. At a certain point, I pretty much stopped going out, except for essential trips to a store or for meals. I felt an emptiness; my best friend was missing. I was tormented by voices in my head that wouldn't stop asking the same questions: "Where the h.e.l.l is she?" "How is she?" My sister was out there alone and scared, and I couldn't pretend that everything was normal, so most nights I stayed home. Sometimes late at night, I'd post on Facebook or Twitter, "I miss her."

Instantly I would be deluged with messages from random people saying things like "My prayers are with you." Or "Stay strong, Lisa!"

The anonymity of these notes was strangely comforting. I didn't have to face people and all the unanswerable questions. Just knowing that so many people were sending positive energy in our direction uplifted my spirits during frequent periods of despair.

LAURA.

SOME DAYS, MR. Y YEE would show up without his recorder and notebook. This was a sign that we were going for a stroll outside. The first time he suggested we go for a walk, my suspicions were aroused. Breathing fresh air, feeling the cool breeze against my skin, hearing the rustling of leaves in the wind-these sensations had become rare and special to me. But the walks became more than just a time for exercise; they became an opportunity for Mr. Yee, Mr. Baek, and me to speak more freely with one another, with little chance of anyone overhearing us. I came to view these walks, our conversations, and the information gleaned as the most crucial part of my existence. I knew that if I was to ever get out, I needed to figure out how to play this complicated game with enormous international implications. I began to look at each day as a strategic puzzle, one I had to solve in order to win back my freedom. would show up without his recorder and notebook. This was a sign that we were going for a stroll outside. The first time he suggested we go for a walk, my suspicions were aroused. Breathing fresh air, feeling the cool breeze against my skin, hearing the rustling of leaves in the wind-these sensations had become rare and special to me. But the walks became more than just a time for exercise; they became an opportunity for Mr. Yee, Mr. Baek, and me to speak more freely with one another, with little chance of anyone overhearing us. I came to view these walks, our conversations, and the information gleaned as the most crucial part of my existence. I knew that if I was to ever get out, I needed to figure out how to play this complicated game with enormous international implications. I began to look at each day as a strategic puzzle, one I had to solve in order to win back my freedom.

As we strolled the length of the walled compound, I could see that Mr. Yee was trying to better understand my character, and I too had my own agenda. I wanted him to know me and sympathize with me. I tried to play the part of the naive young girl. I wanted him to see himself as my protector. At the same time, I was trying to extract as much information from him as he was from me.

"Do you consider yourself Chinese or American?" he asked during one of our walks. I knew which answer would please him, but I wanted to be honest and have an open conversation in this more relaxed setting.

"I feel a very strong connection to my Chinese culture and my heritage," I said. "But I was born in the United States, I was raised under its system, it's what I identify with."

He criticized the United States for its bullying nature and for thinking it can police the world.

"I agree with you," I said. "My country can definitely act like a bully. But our new president, Barack Obama, was elected in large part because he vowed to restore America's image in the world and to act as a partner, not as a superior, around the world."

He then started talking about sanctions and threatened that North Korea would retaliate if the United States continued to antagonize it. I wondered if this had anything to do with the recent satellite launch and America's reaction to it.

"Did something happen recently? Were more sanctions issued?" I asked.

Without answering the question directly, he went into a tirade about North Korea's right as a sovereign state to launch a satellite into s.p.a.ce for peaceful, scientific purposes.

"Criticizing something that is our natural right is an insult and will only make us more determined," he said. "If the U.S. puts more sanctions on us, it only makes us more defiant."

He then told me that there were people within the regime that actually welcomed sanctions because they provided the government with a reason to rally the North Korean people against the United States.

While Mr. Yee became more candid and relaxed during the walks outside, when he was indoors he was all business. He approached the interrogation process as if it were some sort of duel, and he was always ready to pounce.

I began to tell from the questions being asked of me that the North Koreans were more focused on my work as a journalist than on the crossing of the border. This is a country where all news is censored and disseminated by the government through a strictly controlled propaganda machine; there's no tolerance for anything that deviates from the idealistic image the regime has created for itself. Mr. Yee explained to me that the North Korean government believes that the foreign media perpetuate lies about the DPRK's treatment of its citizens in order to crush the regime.

Perhaps the most damaging piece of evidence they had against me was the interview I did with a North Korean defector the night before we were arrested. Euna had tried to destroy the tape that contained this interview by ripping the ribbons when we were in the detention facility near the border. But apparently the authorities in Pyongyang had been able to piece together some sections of the tape and had seen at least part of the interview.

Unlike the women we'd interviewed, whose primary reasons for leaving North Korea were to find food and to make money to feed their families back home, this man had left for political reasons, less than two months earlier. He was disappointed with the regime and with the growing disparity between the ruling elites in Pyongyang and the rest of the impoverished country. I was curious to know if there were any underground movements in North Korea directed against the government, and whether others shared his frustration with the regime. He rarely answered me directly but indicated that he would explain more if he could escape to Seoul. He was plotting to make his way out of China to South Korea and was therefore trying to be extra cautious until he was in a safe place where he could speak more openly.

Euna was careful to film the man only from his waist down so that he would be unidentifiable. But the investigator didn't seem concerned about the man, his beliefs, or his ident.i.ty. It was my questioning that most enraged him. He wanted to know why I had posed such political questions, including ones about Kim Jong Il's health and whether the average person was aware of the leader's condition.

"When we were introduced to the man, we were told that he left North Korea because he was unsatisfied with the government," I explained. "I asked him those questions only because I knew this. Otherwise, I wouldn't have asked him such political questions."

"I don't believe you," he responded angrily. "It's obvious you had another agenda."

It was soon clear that I was being cornered. The evidence they had on tape had convinced them I had hostile intentions. While I had apologized profusely for both crossing the North Korean border and for working on a doc.u.mentary about defectors, my expression of regret was not sufficient for Mr. Yee. He wanted me to admit that my main objective was to bring down the North Korean regime.

That night, to my surprise, Mr. Yee, who as always was accompanied by Mr. Baek, visited me carrying a large bottle of beer. It was April 15, the birthday of North Korea's founder, Kim Il Sung. Throughout the week, different celebrations and films paying tribute to the Great Leader were featured on television. Mr. Yee ordered one of the guards to bring some gla.s.ses and filled three of them with the warm brew. Just then the room went dark, and the guard had to fumble around for a flashlight, which she placed at the center of the desk.

"Today is the great Kim Il Sung's birthday. It is a very special day for our country," Mr. Yee said excitedly.

Even though there was only a dim glow in the room, I could see that his cheeks were flushed, his speech slightly slurred. It seemed he'd already been celebrating. He raised his gla.s.s, and Mr. Baek and I followed along, clinking with each other in a toast.

I couldn't figure out what this visit was all about. He began by making casual conversation, asking me how my parents met and why they got divorced. I told him that it was a kind of arranged marriage, and because of that, it was hard for them to love each other.

"Divorce was probably the best thing that happened to me and my sister, because our parents fought a lot," I said. "I don't believe people should be together if they aren't in love."

"We do not approve of divorce here in the DPRK," he said. "It is something that is looked down upon." He then brought up Iain. "Your husband," he began, "he's quite handsome. He seems like he has good character, like he'd make a good Communist."

I was startled. How did he know what Iain looked like? What made him think Iain would be a good Communist? And what did that even mean? I wondered if perhaps another batch of letters had arrived from my family.

I saw that his gla.s.s was nearly empty. Trying to be deferential, I stood up and grasped the bottle with both hands, filling his gla.s.s first, then Mr. Baek's, and finally mine. He nodded in approval.

"How do you know what my husband looks like?" I asked.