#rhld

“It would be a really sleazy stunt to bring him back.”

–Dennis O’Neil, editor of Batman, speaking about the death of Jason Todd

Jason Todd returning from the dead wasn’t my idea. But then, after a fashion, it was.

So I’ll take the blame.

We in the superhero-comic game often, and justifiably, get accused of employing the dumb trope of bringing characters back to life. We are guilty as charged. We do it a lot. We sometimes kill characters off because it gives us this amazing dramatic turn, but we tend to bring them back because the characters were so amazing in the first place that we miss having a chance to tell their stories. I freely admit this. But. Jason Todd is and was different.

Jason Todd was distinctive because of the legendary way that he died. The readers voted him out! They pulled the trigger! They pushed the button! In 1988, there was a legendary moment in comic book history when DC Comics ended Batman #427 with a cliffhanger to top all cliffhangers. The Joker blew up a building with Robin–a.k.a Jason Todd–inside. And the creators and editorial team left it up to the readers to vote by calling one of two phone numbers. One number for Jason to live, and another number for him to die. And they voted for him to die. It was amazing. It was historic! Who would want to screw that up?

Apparently, me.

Many years later, in 2003, I was, like many, excitedly reading the Batman story arc “Hush” by Jeph Loeb and Jim Lee. It was amazing. It was a rollercoaster. All the major heroes and villains from across the DC Universe showed up and took a swing throughout the story.

The most pivotal turn in the tale revolved around the titular villain, Hush– the mysterious antagonist with skills and, most importantly, so much knowledge of Bruce Wayne’s past. A climactic scene rolled out where Batman and Hush faced each other down in a cemetery and our antagonist revealed himself. Hush pulled his bandages from his face, exposing his identity, and we and Batman learned that he was Jason Todd! Revived by a trip to Ra’s al Ghul’s Lazarus Pit and returned to Gotham City to wreak havoc on his father figure and mentor. And oh my god– I was just knocked flat! Just bowled over. I loved it.

As a reader, the top of my head blew off. As a storyteller, my heart exploded inside my chest. Because this made so much sense, and I saw the story laid out like 100 miles of broken road. It read like an opera. Jason Todd, the fallen son, the ruined one, the one that Bruce could never manage to control. His greatest failure. His partner who was brutally murdered and taken from him by his worst enemy. Jason embodied all of what Batman perceived to be his own failings and weaknesses. Batman lived with the massive scar, every day, that it was he who got Jason killed. He tortured himself by displaying Jason’s uniform in the Batcave This memorial to his pain! A totem of loss. He didn’t want to forget. He wanted it to hurt. And now: Jason’s returned! He’s returned with all the skills, and strength, and power that Batman taught him. And he’s using it to do wrong. Jason Todd has become a villain.

This was exquisitely painful. It was heartbreaking. It was beautiful. I couldn’t wait to read what was next. And then, in the next issue of “Hush,” it turned out that Jason Todd was actually just Clayface in disguise. 

And I thought, “Okay. Well. That’s another way to go, I guess.”

It was a huge twist. And I wasn’t disappointed. Because the remainder of the story continued its exciting, action-packed free fall. But I couldn’t let go of the idea of Jason Todd.

So two years later, when Batman group editor and my pal Bob Schreck tapped me to take over writing duties on Batman, I had to take a swing at it, I told Bob that I wanted to bring Jason Todd back to life for real. 

When talking about writing superhero comics, it’s often said we stand on the shoulders of giants. That’s never been more true than when it comes to the Under the Red Hood story arc, and of all the Jason Todd/Red Hood stories that would follow. 

Jason Todd was born out of the minds and artistry of Gerry Conway and Don Newton. They were the ones who brought us this tough kid in the first place. And it was Jim Starlin and Jim Aparo, under the watchful editorial guidance of Denny O’Neil, that brought us “A Death in the Family.”

Jason Todd as a character and his murder, in my opinion, were the clear turning point for Batman as a character in the modern mythos. The Dark Knight, as we know him today–this tortured, vengeful, driven, and electrifying character–owes so much to the loss that these storytellers provided him. Batman just got darker after Jason died.

And here I was, planning on screwing that up.

But the lightning strike of inspiration that I’d had when I read “Hush” just wouldn’t leave me. I saw it was a story that seemed to practically tell itself. And! I felt comfortable that we weren’t going to be just tumbling down the trope of a dead character coming back to life. This was more than that. Jason Todd’s loss was never going to leave Batman. He was still going to carry the wound. But now it would get worse. Whereas before he was haunted by the memories of the mistakes he’d made, now we were going to explore what would happen if his mistakes came back to face him. Now that the prodigal son had truly returned, and was doing wrong. Jason is making the claim to Batman that he would be “a better Batman than you.”

In all modesty, I don’t feel like we screwed it up. I take a lot of pride in the fact that years later, people are still enjoying “Under the Red Hood” and Lost Days and that Jason Todd/Red Hood is still kicking around. I’ve said many times that for those of us who write superhero comics now, it’s all fan fiction. We were children when we began reading comic books, and many of us dreamed up stories in our heads. And for those who are lucky enough to finally get to tell the stories, it’s a gift. Well, I wasn’t a kid when I was digging through the pages of “Hush” and the story of the Red Hood popped into my head. But I was still a fan, reading a comic, and seeing a story unfold in front of me.

But this time–I got to make it happen.

So. I’ll take the blame.

Judd Winick