Where Were You When Ed Piskor Died?

The Day I Nearly Quit Comics Forever

“…I promise my innocence.”

It’s April 1^st, 2024. The date falls on the Monday after Easter. It’s also April Fool’s Day. Like most Americans on a typical Monday morning, I drive to work and sit at my desk. After perusing unread emails and completing some brief work-related housekeeping tasks, I check social media on my phone out of thoughtless habit. I’ve barely started scrolling when I read something about artist – and co-host of the hit Cartoonist Kayfabe YouTube channel – Ed Piskor from a fellow comic book creator. I freeze. I keep scrolling and Ed Piskor’s name continues to be mentioned. I repeatedly think to myself over and over again, “No, no, no. This can’t be happening.” All these posts are suggesting a terrible tragedy: Ed Piskor has committed suicide…and he’d left a public suicide letter.

“Curiosity killed the cartoonist.”

For context, Ed Piskor had been experiencing a week from hell. A couple of allegations had been presented and that’s as far as I’ll go out of respect to him and his family. It’s not my place to go over the string of events, as that information is readily available. It is crucially important to note that these allegations were recounting things that had happened a handful of years ago, that no charges were filed and no convictions were made. This situation basically came down to someone’s word against Ed’s. Except many had already made up their minds about Ed Piskor and reporters were already harassing his family. His art exhibit was cancelled by the gallery and a $75K publishing deal dissolved. It was obvious a handful of peers, as well as those within and those surrounding the comic book industry, whether creators or fans, were relishing in seeing his name, career, and personhood become tarnished. Rumors circled that Ed was defending himself through anonymous accounts on social media and he was being called despicable things without an end in sight. I couldn’t believe how quickly the tide was turning to destroy someone who, as far as I was concerned, had only ever been a positive force in comics.

I personally didn’t know what to think. I needed more information. I wanted to hear Ed’s side of the story. Cartoonist Kayfabe wasn’t my favorite comic book YouTube channel; it was my favorite YouTube channel bar none. I recommended it all the time to anyone who remotely liked comic books. I didn’t know Ed Piskor or co-host Jim Rugg, but I felt like I did. They were two sides of the same coin; Ed with his brash, playful humor unique to him alone and Jim with his reserved, polite demeanor. I dreamed of meeting them at a convention or signing one day. That excitement grew after working alongside Jim Rugg on a cover for issue two of my own comic series, Man-Child. At one point, I suggested to Jim the idea of doing a wraparound cover that featured both his and Ed’s artwork in a single image. The thing is, I treasured these guys. I’d come home after a grueling day at work and put on Cartoonist Kayfabe as a way to decompress and learn more about the craft and history of comic books. The Kayfabe effect was real; I was buying the comics they covered and did so because of the way they examined them. Their enthusiasm was contagious and attention to detail unrivaled. I started looking at comic book art, lettering, and storytelling with more of a critical eye. The interviews they did with other creators were so in-depth. My girlfriend even started watching the channel with me and she barely reads comics! With that said, of course I didn’t want these allegations to be true. And as far as I was concerned, they weren’t until Ed put out a statement and addressed them or until the courts got involved. Innocent until proven guilty. That’s how justice is supposed to work, right?

“I’m guilty of being stupid. No doubt. But, that’s all.”

Ed’s suicide letter is still up on his Facebook page. It’s a powerful, piercing document. I’ve read it multiple times and every time I do, I can hardly get through it without feeling weak and heartbroken to my core. It’s eerie and riveting and it moves me to tears. Underneath the link to the Google doc, there’s one-hundred and fifty comments pleading with him to not take his life. Names I recognize, some I don’t. Ed left his phone number in the letter itself and I called the number that morning, hoping he or someone he knew would pick up and say he’s okay, he’s alive. I literally prayed to God he was alive. No answer came and so I left an awkward message sharing my respect and admiration for all he meant to me and the comic book community. It’s my understanding that many others did the same. I wish he could’ve heard those messages and felt the love pouring out from all those voices, all those people who cared about him. Maybe it would’ve made a difference, maybe not. I like to imagine the former’s conclusion despite knowing the truth.

No one knew if Ed was alive or dead until later that afternoon. Before there was any confirmation, the entire comic community was held in suspense. Remember, it was April Fool’s Day. Was Ed playing a morbid prank? I called one of my best friends because I needed someone else to know what was happening, that I wasn’t alone in bearing this weight. Then, sitting in my driveway after work, I spoke with my older brother on the phone as the news sank in. It was raining. It’s like the world itself knew it’d just lost one of its artistic giants and was mourning him too. I was fueled with this anger rising within me and this same anger had nowhere to go. Powerlessness cut deep, straight to the soul.

What I’ve seen in the aftermath of Ed Piskor’s death has appalled me. I came the closest to quitting comics than I’d ever come before in the weeks following his passing. I questioned the integrity of this industry and a part of me continues to hold this uncertainty. Here we are one year later and nothing of consequence seems to have occurred. It’s like those within the comic industry are not allowed to talk about it or enact change or hold certain members of it accountable. Thank God for creators like Greg Smallwood, Patrick Zircher, Rob Liefeld, Mark Millar, Rob Guillory, and a few others for standing up for Ed Piskor when he couldn’t stand up for himself, when no one else would. They give me hope. Although the fact that I can only name less than ten professionals who put their necks on the line to speak up is telling of how far the industry is from where it needs to be. Publishing this article may garner backlash. It may close doors and opportunities in the future and I accept that. It’s a sad, harsh reality. This is not about taking sides, this is about saving lives. That’s where I’m coming from. I don’t want what happened to Ed Piskor to happen to anyone else in the comic book industry ever again. To me, that’s a cause worth fighting for, a bell worth ringing.

“The shame will never go away. Please make good use of what I’ve built up and take comfort for the rest of your years. This will give my life and this tragedy of events some positive meaning.”

Ed Piskor’s family loved him dearly, that I know without a doubt. His sister Justine is an inspiring warrior and champion for her brother’s legacy. Considering everything that the Piskor family has withstood, she has been the face of incredible perseverance and strength, keeping Ed’s memory alive with unbending resolve and passion. They accepted an Eisner on Ed’s behalf. They’re in the process of publishing Ed’s final work, Switchblade Shorties. They started the Eddie P. Comic Con in Pennsylvania. There’s a Cartoonist Kayfabe-inspired anthology on the way. The Ed Piskor Legacy Instagram page is flooded with pictures and stories of Ed. To describe what they’ve done in his honor as “beautiful” doesn’t quite properly summarize it, but it’ll have to do. I was the recipient of a “Thank You” card for my donation to the family and I held back tears when I received it because they are the ones who deserve all the thanks, as does Ed for what he accomplished and gave to the world. I have the card displayed in my office as a constant reminder of Ed and his precious family.

“I’m doing it out of intense shame. We’re not built to have hundreds (maybe a few thousand?) people judging and/or harassing us at once. A private and solitary mind can’t take it.”

I used to hold the belief that the internet wasn’t a real place. Recently I retired such an outdated notion because, clearly, the internet has real consequences. It spills over into our everyday lives and can completely derail any sense of peace or safety. The internet can kill careers. The internet, in Ed’s case, can kill people. It’s as if the internet is becoming more real than real life outside in the sunlight, completely altering the conversation humanity has with itself. The comic book social media spaces are no different. It’s imperative that cries for crucifixion online be wrangled into place before they result in bloodshed. The crowds may not have been literally calling for Ed’s head, but they were calling for the end of Ed’s livelihood, which is obviously indistinguishable. Ed devoted every ounce of his life to comics. To argue the point would be to split the finest of hairs. Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.

“I’m a solitary guy and I’ve put every ounce of my time and life into my work for around the past 20 years. I never felt satisfied with my skill so I constantly worked really hard and tied it all to my identity and self-worth.”

I had a signing event at a comic shop located a few hours away from where I live over the weekend and when browsing its shelves, I encountered copies of Hip Hop Family Tree – Ed’s award-winning, seminal achievement. I always pause when I see his name now. I picked up a copy to flip through just to appreciate it, wondering if anyone else in the shop knew who this man was and what had become of him. I remembered the anniversary of his death was only a few days away and I also remembered that it’s now been one year since I’d watched an episode of the Cartoonist Kayfabe show. I’ve avoided the idea. I find the task impossible still to this day one year later. I want to hear Ed’s voice and see those black shades and that Pittsburgh Pirates cap, but the wound of April 1^st, 2024 hasn’t healed. The hole he left remains. Perhaps doing so will help me process this intangible grief residing within. After all, I think that’s what Ed would want; to celebrate comics together.

So, I’ll try to do it for you, Ed.

We miss you.

“I was murdered by Internet bullies. Massive amounts of them. Some of you out there absolutely contributed to my death as you were entertaining yourself with gossip. I wasn’t AI. I was a real human being. You chipped little bits of my self-esteem away all week until I was vaporized.”

Practice kindness to others and yourself. Reach out. You’re not alone.

For Eddie P.

1982-alive in us.

- Nandor Fox Shaffer