So, this is just a silly little parody of the fact that the Joker gives two or three different explanations for his scarring in the Dark Knight. Quick note: "that reporter guy" is the supposed famous new anchor that the Joker kidnaps about halfway through the movie. I couldn't find his name anywhere…I'm relatively sure it's not actually Joe Bob Brown.

Disclaimer: Don't own Batman. Don't own Joker. Barely own computer. Tough luck?

Gotham City Police Department Video Archives. View case file: The Joker.


James Down was not having a good day.

He had been nearly punished by his boss, then captured by and forced to work for the stupid clown his bosses had hired, and then he had been picked up by the police.

He was about to get grilled, he knew it. They had him in the hot seat, in a bleak interrogation room, and they were going to press him until he squealed. He could see it coming, and the fact that his boss was dead didn't bring him any real comfort.

"Mr. Down." A cop. On a deeper, quieter level, James was glad to finally be getting it over with.

The cop threw a manila folder onto the table separating them. "James Down, age twenty-seven. Black male. Bodyguard for one of the most infamous mafia bosses in the city."

James didn't say anything. He had always heard it worked better that way.

"I have enough evidence here to send you to prison for life or worse. Do you understand that, Mr. Down?"

James scowled, but nodded. He knew what would come next.

"I could do that…But I'm willing to cut you a deal. Minimum jail time and protection when you get out. And all I want in return is for you to tell us everything you know—"

James opened his mouth to refuse—

"—about the Joker."

"The Joker?" James demanded incredulously. "That's what you want to know about?"

The cop shrugged indifferently and retrieved the folder he had tossed down earlier. "If you don't have any information on him…

"Wait!" James cried as the other man reached for the door, "I do know something!" Betraying the clown was sort of like avenging his boss, wasn't it?

The cop turned, obviously interested. "Oh?"

"He said he got those face scars from his old man. Said he was a drunk who came home angry one night and let loose on him with a knife."

The cop smirked at what James knew had to be a hidden camera, and turned back towards the door. "We'll be in touch."


Rachel had only been waiting for five minutes when a policeman whom she might have recognized brought her a cup of coffee and an apology.

"Sorry for the wait, ma'am. The department's going crazy."

"I know," she replied, trying to remove the tremble from her voice. "How can I help you?"

The officer smiled reassuringly at her as he took a seat at the table. "Was there anything the Joker said to you tonight that seemed…Out of the ordinary? Like he might have let more slip than he meant to?"

Rachel thought for a moment, eyes cast down. Just thinking about it was enough to make her hands start shaking again…

"Miss Dawes? Are you all right? We can continue this later—"

"No," Rachel interrupted, "I can do it now. Just give me a moment."

The policeman nodded, and Rachel slowly gathered herself.

"I don't know if he was trying to psyche me out, or what." she started hesitantly, "But while he was threatening me with the knife he gave a long spiel about how he gave himself the scars on his face to match scars his wife had received, and that she left him afterwards." She paused uncertainly. "Does that help?"

The policeman frowned, but nodded for her benefit. "You've been very helpful, Miss Dawes."


Joe Bob Brown sat nervously in the plastic chair, not meeting the eyes of the cop in front of him. The man had brought him a cup of coffee and was now waiting for him to speak.

"I didn't do anything willingly, I swear—" he gasped out finally.

"You're not in trouble, Mr. Brown." soothed the cop.

"I already gave my statement," Joe Bob pled miserably, "Can't I go home now?"

The cop shook his head sympathetically. "I'm sorry, sir, but we need to know if you have any information on the Joker. Did he say anything to you that shed light into his past or future plans?"

Joe Bob shifted uncomfortably. "Well…He did say that he got those scars on his face from a knife-juggling clown he pissed off this one time…"

The cop raised his eyebrows. "And that's all?"

Joe Bob stared down at his hands. "Yes, sir."


Will paced the small interrogation room, obviously agitated. He snapped his head up as the door opened on a familiar face.

"What is this? You know I didn't do anything. We're on the same side!"

The officer put his hands out in a calming gesture. "Will, calm down. We know. We gotta ask you about the Joker, and you know that has to be on record."

"It's not fair—"

"I'm sorry, okay? Now would you just cooperate for a few minutes?"

Will dropped angrily into the single chair. "Fine."

When nothing else seemed forthcoming, the interrogating officer cleared his throat. "So, you were in the office while the Joker held it hostage."

Will let out a gusty sigh. "Yeah, yeah. He talked a lot of crap. This is fun, why so serious, we all know the drill. There was one thing that stuck out, though."

The other officer leaned forward.

"He had a knife to this guy's throat, and he started talking about how he got the scars on his face. He said he went to a circus one day as a kid, and told a clown that there was no way he was going to smile at his act. And, apparently, it turns out the clown was a psycho with a knife, who doesn't take kindly to be called a loser by some little kid. So he makes him smile. And if you ask me, that right there explains why the Joker is so screwed in the head."

And Will couldn't understand why the other officer only looked confused.


Jimmy "Make It Go Boom" Smith twitched in his seat. They were going to put him away again, unless he could come up with something useful, and fast.

The cop didn't even make it all the way in the door before Jimmy started babbling.

"I know, I know, I know, I have—I know—I got a good one!" he gasped out.

"All right, all right, calm down—"

"No no no no no! Listen, I gotta good one. It's the Joker. I saw him. I really really saw him!"

The cop rolled his eyes. "Sure you did."

"No, really!" Jimmy insisted. "I saw him. He told me, he said to me 'Jimmy, see these scars? I got these scars from a wild bear.' I really saw him—"


Video File Paused.

The tech guy controlling the video gave Commissioner Gordon a nervous glare. "Sir, I asked you not to touch the equipment…"

"How many of these are there?" Gordon demanded irritably. "Do any of them match up?"

"N-No, sir. Every account of the Joker's past is different."

Gordon passed a hand over his face in frustration. "And what did he tell the psychiatrist last time he was in Arkham?"

The tech started flipping through a manila folder that had been resting in his lap. "Uh…Something about a raging bull elephant?"

Something angry-looking in Gordon's face twitched. The tech flinched a little.

After a moment of gathering himself, Gordon took a deep breath. "Thanks for the help, son."

And even though it was under his breath and on the other side of the door, the tech couldn't help but hear the commissioner's irritated "I hate clowns."