You're Barbara Gordon. You are very, very pregnant, and you live in shit city, but at least you've got a decent husband, even if he does spend all his time at work and you're fighting about that. Still, he's honest, or so you think, until he starts being blackmailed because he's having an affair with a colleague and has to confess this to you, which is bad enough, but then you and your newborn are kidnapped. The baby is ripped from your arms and taken away, and you get him back eventually, but what is your reaction to this avalanche of horror that your husband is partially complicit in bringing down upon you?

Who the hell knows, you're not that important. You don't get to react to a single part of it. Not once. 

If I'm supposed to feel sorry for Jim Gordon I don't. The potential for blackmail could have been seen a mile off. He's extremely stupid here, and reckless with other people's lives, and if there is anything designed to put me off a supposedly heroic protagonist it is stupidity and recklessness. What irritates me the most, though, is that the whole story is framed around him - and Batman of course, but then I'm not bitching about Bruce Wayne right now - as if he is the one that I'm supposed to empathise with. I doubt I'm Frank Miller's target audience here, but even so... I am not empathising.