Rob's Story: What it was like to Submit to TRC2
- USKRG
- 8 minutes ago
- 4 min read
Rob, Vice President of USKRG, tells his story in his own words, of what it was like to submit to TRC.
"I continue because truth matters, even when it is slow, and because my story, like so many others, deserves to be fully told."
I was adopted from South Korea to the United States when I was two and a half years old. Like many Korean adoptees of my generation, I was told that I was abandoned in a public location. There were no other details, names, or context. I had been abandoned and then I was “saved” through adoption. For a long time, I believed this story because it was all I knew.
As I got older, this story began to feel incomplete and I wanted to fill in some of the gaps if I could, especially those concerning my birth family. I reviewed my adoption records. I requested documents from agencies and institutions. I took multiple DNA tests. I did a couple media searches. Each successive attempt felt less likely to succeed than the previous. Ultimately, they all ended the same way, with no answers. No family connection. No confirmation. No clear explanation. Just more unanswered questions.
Through my work and interactions with Korean adoptees over the years, I had learned long ago that my adoption narrative was most likely not true. When South Korea opened applications to transnational adoptees for its second Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) back in 2022, I saw an opportunity to seek accountability and clarity through an official process.
"I [submitted] not because it was about my story or about me; It was about the systems, policies, and practices that shaped thousands of adoptions."
I submitted my case because I wanted an independent investigation into how my adoption happened and to verify if my records were actually accurate, complete, and truthful, or if they were completely fabricated. I did this not because it was about my story or about me; It was about the systems, policies, and practices that shaped thousands of adoptions.
The Process
The process itself began with gathering everything. Adoption papers, agency records, correspondence, and notes. Anything that might help reconstruct my history. Some of these records contained inconsistencies and gaps. Dates did not align. Some sections or expected documents were missing entirely, such as a police report about my abandonment or the required search for my birth family once I was found.
"I had to explain why there were reasonable grounds for concern. Why the information I had received might be inaccurate. Why this mattered not only to me but to the integrity of the adoption system itself."
After assembling my file, I completed the formal application. This included a written statement of why I wanted my case investigated. It was not a personal essay, but more like a legal statement. I had to explain why there were reasonable grounds for concern. Why the information I had received might be inaccurate. Why this mattered not only to me but to the integrity of the adoption system itself. Several months later, I was notified that my case had been accepted for investigation. From there, a designated investigator reviewed my file and followed up with specific questions. I had to compile a timeline of key dates related to my adoption. Sometimes they asked for clarification, for additional documentation, or for context that was not obvious from the records alone. Oftentimes, there would be months without any communication. I learned I had to be patient but ready to respond.
The Interview
In March 2025, I traveled to Seoul for an in-person interview. While this was not required, it was something I wanted to do. Sitting across from an investigator in Korea, I discussed my life and my adoption history. This experience made the process feel grounded in place and reality. It was happening in the country where my story began. The interview was thorough and professional. I was asked about my childhood with my adoptive family, my understanding of my adoption, and what my life was like in the country I grew up in. I answered as openly and honestly as I could remember.
After the interview, the investigation continued for a brief time. Then I was informed in June 2025 that my case, along with many others, would be placed on hold. The second Truth and Reconciliation Commission was concluding its mandate. Outstanding cases would be transferred to the third commission when and if it began operations.
TRC3
When the third Truth and Reconciliation Commission begins its work, my case will resume. The investigation will continue. Records will be reviewed. Institutions will be questioned. Conclusions may eventually be reached. I do not know what those conclusions will be. They may confirm the story I was given. They may complicate it. They may reveal mistakes, misconduct, or systemic failures. Or they may leave some questions unresolved.
"Submitting to the commission was not about searching for a dramatic revelation. It was about insisting that my history deserves accuracy. It was about recognizing that adoptees are not just outcomes of policy."
What I do know is this. Submitting to the commission was not about searching for a dramatic revelation. It was about insisting that my history deserves accuracy. It was about recognizing that adoptees are not just outcomes of policy. We are people whose lives were shaped by decisions made without our consent. This process has required patience, persistence, and restraint. I continue because truth matters, even when it is slow, and because my story, like so many others, deserves to be fully told.