TV's Redeem Team: 17 best villains gone good

The consummate ’80s corporate slimeball, Benjamin Horne (played with lip-smacking aplomb by Richard Beymer) was behind much of the evil that penetrated the squeaky-clean facade of . Aside from attempting to level the town’s magical woods, he was the proprietor of a sex trafficking operation that employed slain homecoming queen Laura Palmer (Sheryl Lee) and his daughter Audrey (Sherilyn Fenn). No amount of do-goodery could make up for these crimes, but Ben did repent. After he was accused of Laura’s murder and had a subsequent descent into Civil War-based madness, Ben spent the rest of his life attempting to do good, shuttering Ghost Wood and saving the endangered Pine Weasel. When we caught up with him in , Horne was still setting things right, devoting his time to the families he’d destroyed, particularly his own. It’s tireless work that left him exhausted, lovelorn, and unhappy—yet as far as we know, his villainous days were over. [Matt Schimkowitz]

The problem with having a long-running villain on television is they will, sooner or later, become more interesting than the hero. However, ’s Spike had a dual problem, overshadowing the show’s hero and its initial heartthrob anti-hero Angel. Through Buffy’s oft-divisive middle years, James Marsters would become the show’s MVP, driving much of the moral complication and nuance that made the show a standout to begin with. Through flashbacks, a delightfully silly behavior-modifying chip, and complicated relationship dynamics between him and his original love, Spike grew from a secondary baddie to become the show’s most compelling character. We can never forgive him for hitting Buffy, but what made Spike’s arc worth investing in was that he never lost that edge. He’s a vampire, after all. [Matt Schimkowitz]

Logan Echolls (Jason Dohring) began as the school’s “obligatory psychotic jackass,” a super-spoiled bully whose antics bordered on the extreme. (Setting up a bum fight? Not Logan’s finest moment.) He was so extreme, in fact, that he was a prime suspect in Veronica’s (Kristen Bell) investigation into the murder of his girlfriend, Lilly Kane (Amanda Seyfried). Yet even in the first season of the show, Logan showed signs of redemption. He came from an impossibly broken home and suffered his fair share of tragedy, but he always rushed to protect Veronica even when they were on the outs. Throughout the first two seasons he teetered on the line between villain and hero, and his tendency to lash out with cruelty came between him and Veronica time and again. But by the third season, he started to learn to make healthy decisions for himself, and when we revisited him in the 2014 movie and the 2019 Hulu revival he’d gone straight, becoming a Naval Intelligence Officer and regularly attending therapy. Though Veronica, maladjusted as she could be, might have missed the bad boy “Old Logan,” the new, redeemed Logan still maintained the snarky, sharp demeanor that made us fall in love with him. And that edge of violence never fully went away—it was just put to good use, as when he saved the life of Congressman Daniel Maloof (see above). [Mary Kate Carr]

Redemption is ’s massive, overarching theme, so naturally the show would attempt to vindicate its greatest and funniest antagonist, Benjamin Linus (). Introduced in season two, Ben is a longtime resident of the Island who manipulates, kills, and basically weasels his way into ruling the crowd. It’s the gradual reveal of his tragic backstory that changes the tide, making the audience understand his actions. Ben’s decisions (killing Locke and Jacob, forcing Juliet to stay on the island, using Sayid’s assassination skills, etc.) are fateful and terrible, but he is able to repent for them by the time season six rolls around. His flash-sideways arc is pertinent, perhaps more so than anyone else’s, because it offers a glimpse into his personality in death. And no scene encapsulated his absolution more than John Locke forgiving Ben in the series finale, followed by Hurley earnestly complimenting him for being a great number two. Say what you will, Lost’s end is a banger for many reasons, and this beautiful moment is one of them. [Saloni Gajjar]

For a certain generation, Zuko (voiced by Dante Basco) is the pinnacle of redeemed villains. He began as a banished prince desperate to redeem his honor (“HONOR!!!”) in the eyes of his dictator father by capturing the Avatar. But his journey chasing Aang around the world expanded Zuko’s horizons beyond the propaganda of his native Fire Nation and helped him to realize the flaws (and abuses) of his own family. What made Zuko’s arc so effective is that he was essentially a second protagonist; the series spent a lot of time showing us his perspective (and sharing the wisdom of his beloved Uncle Iroh). Over the course of three seasons, we saw his conviction in the Fire Nation’s mission erode and his own personal moral compass strengthen, culminating in joining the Gaang as Aang’s firebending teacher, facing off with his father and sister Azula, and—eventually—becoming a fair and just Fire Lord for a new age. [Mary Kate Carr]

The first great twist of NBC’s (a show that loved twists at all levels of quality, to be clear) comes at the end of its premiere episode. That’s when we see young cheerleader-with-a-super-powered-secret Claire Bennet welcome home her doting father—only for it to be revealed that he’s the sinister glasses-wearing man who’s spent the entire first episode menacing several other super-powered folks on behalf of a shadowy conspiracy. Played with a gorgeous blend of genuine chill and suburban-dad doofiness by Jack Coleman, the man the audience will eventually know as Noah Bennet spends the show’s first season torn between two masters: the mysterious, frankly evil “paper company” that employs him to control and antagonize would-be heroes on the one hand, and his love for his adopted daughter on the other. Dad-ness inevitably wins out, steadily transitioning Heroes’ first onscreen villain into one of its most consistently effective white hats. [William Hughes]

Okay, technically speaking, Damon (Ian Somerhalder) was always going to be a hero. Introduced as a foe to the nice brother, a.k.a. Stefan (Paul Wesley), Damon came in like a wrecking ball in Mystic Falls. He made it clear in the early seasons that he was a selfish vampire whose bloodlust could, and did, ruin everything. He’s toxic. Yet, over eight long seasons, Damon evolves from an anti-hero to a brooding leader who gets the girl. The journey truly begins in season three when Stefan leaves town, leaving Damon to run the show and get closer to Elena (Nina Dobrev). Damon goes on to redeem himself even in the eyes of Bonnie (Kat Graham)—his dedicated hater from day one—when they’re trapped together in purgatory in season six. So, yes, while Damon was always going to emerge as a winner, accomplishes it in a notably effective (not to mention sexy) manner. [Saloni Gajjar]

’s starter villain, the Ice King, was never the most malevolent of figures in the first place. (Even in his earlier, less nuanced appearances, Tom Kenny’s screechy-voiced oddball is more of a pest for heroes Finn and Jake to deal with than an actual enemy.) But with the second season’s stand-out episode, “Holly Jolly Secrets,” Cartoon Network’s hit series sent this weird, obnoxious old man on a long and surprisingly poignant journey from “princess-kidnapping nuisance” into a figure of actual tragic nobility. Interestingly, Ice King’s actual behavior doesn’t change much over the years—although he softens on Finn and Jake considerably, knocking off most of his worst behaviors. Instead, viewers get increasingly clear glimpses of the man he used to be, and the ways that magic, bad luck, and love doomed a good man named Simon Petrokov to a near-eternity of ranting, pantless weirdness. [William Hughes]

Regina Mills’ (Lana Parilla) transformation from Big Bad to force for good was a major one, given that her title to begin with was literally “The Evil Queen.” Regina is Once Upon A Time’s original antagonist, the person who cast the Dark Curse that trapped all those classic storybook characters in the town of Storybrooke. But for all her misdeeds and misuse of magic, she was a legitimately caring mother to Henry (Jared S. Gilmore), which helped Emma (Jennifer Morrison) see the good in her even as they often butted heads. Witnessing Regina’s own tragic backstory—and the origins of her rivalry with Snow White (Ginnifer Goodwin)—helped cultivate sympathy for the character. But Regina fought her way back to redemption in her own right, regaining the ability to use light magic by the third season and becoming an actual leader (rather than a dictator) for her people. [Mary Kate Carr]

No one exactly had it easy in the world of , but did anyone pay as disproportionately for their trespasses as the former ward of House Stark? Sure, Theon was an over-ambitious little asshole in the first few seasons. Sure, he sacked his adopted family’s ancestral home, killed a few farm boys, and passed them off as his pseudo kid brothers. But no one deserves to have their personhood tortured out of them by a sadistic sociopath like he did. Watching Theon claw his way back to an honorable life by saving multiple members of the family he once betrayed was an emotional journey to say the least. And when Bran told him he was a good man in his final moments? A perfect ending for an improbably great character. [Emma Keates]

There are two ways to look at Jaime Lannister’s “redemption arc.” (That’s in quotes for a reason.) If you, like us, have created a special little world for yourself in which the final season of never happened at all, Jaime’s path from viscerally hated kid pusher and sister, er, lover to almost universally beloved secret savior of Westeros is a feat of television writing for the ages. (That’s minus, of course, from season four that was altered from the book for some reason.) If you do factor in the final season—well, really just the final episode which makes it all the more egregious—all that good work and Brienne romancing was for naught. Ah, GOT. It still stings when we think about it for too long. [Emma Keates]

Jonathan Nolan’s deeply underrated sci-fi-epic-disguised-as-a-boring-procedural skewed toward the redemptive side, filled as it was with black-ops spies, dirty cops, and misanthropic hackers all trying to make good. But Samantha “Root” Groves (Amy Acker) was a special case amongst special cases: Introduced as a sociopathic assassin and hacker with an unhealthy fascination with crime-predicting AI “The Machine,” Root spends the show’s first two seasons kidnapping, torturing, and trying to kill our heroes on a fairly regular basis in hopes of “unchaining” the artificial mind. But a funny thing happens on the way to the machine apocalypse: Once it actually gets some of that vaunted freedom, The Machine devotes a considerable portion of it to the redemption of Root herself, pushing her to help instead of kill, connect instead of cut off. By the time the show ends, well … Root is still a bit of a gleeful psychopath. But she’s one who’s at least willing to use her bag of murderous tricks on the side of the angels. [William Hughes]

Helena’s (Tatiana Maslany) remarkable redemption arc made her a fan favorite with the Clone Club. (She also coined the term “sestra,” one of the show’s most identifiable memes.) In the first season, she was a legitimately bone-chilling villain, a clone that was religiously brainwashed and raised to eliminate her sisters. She would appear dripping in blood with a scary, screeching personal soundtrack, a loose cannon whose presence electrified the screen. Her redemption was seeded in season one as her fascination with Sarah bloomed into sincere loyalty to all her sestras, and she began fighting for them instead of against. Her previously terrifying nature was transformed into surprising comic relief as she learned, essentially, to be a real person (and a mother). This redemption arc is a testament to the writing, but also crucially to Maslany’s excellent Emmy-winning performance that imbued Helena with humanity while always keeping her killer instinct razor-sharp. [Mary Kate Carr]

Jane The Virgin gets points for creating a devious female antagonist whose redemption feels earned without softening the strong, sharp character she is. That’s Petra Solano (Yael Grobglas), who begins the series as Jane’s (Gina Rodriguez) romantic rival and ends it as her dear friend. Petra’s difficult childhood made her ruthless and willing to do anything to secure herself a better life. That renders her, at least temporarily, a tormentor of her ex-husband Rafael (Justin Baldoni) and Jane. However, when Petra becomes pregnant shortly after Jane (itself a villainous task, since she sort of steals Rafael’s sperm to do it), the pair become tentative allies as new mothers over the course of the second season. By the third season, the trio are one big happy modern family, and Petra has blossomed into a confident business owner in her own right. Though she and Jane often don’t see eye to eye in the later seasons, it’s a far cry from the woman who schemed to keep them apart in the first season—and a beautiful transformation for viewers who stuck through every twist and turn. [Mary Kate Carr]

’s original cast had a lot of baddies—half the Sky People were delinquent kids, and half were adults who sent a bunch of kids to a hostile planet as an experiment—but no one did amoral like John Murphy (Richard Harmon). Cast out of the 100’s camp for vengeful acts of violence, he spends much of the first three seasons looking out for himself (and his eventual girlfriend, Emori [Luisa D’Oliveira]) and only helping his Ark neighbors when it brings him benefits. However, witnessing that many near-extinction level events is bound to change a person, and in the third and fourth seasons he slowly develops a true conscience and a sense of loyalty. Being part of a small family of survivors in space for six years (in the fifth season) helps solidify his standing with the good guys, but he’s still occasionally swayed by a bad actor (like his bid for immortality in the sixth season). However, it’s that exact perspective as a “cockroach” who always comes out alive that ultimately benefits his friends time and again, making him a flawed but compelling hero (when he chooses to be). [Mary Kate Carr]

When began, no one suspected Michael was a villain in need of a redemption arc. If anything, he was a heavenly architect redeeming the four humans who died and entered utopia. So the reveal of his hellish roots—delivered via a maniacally perfect laugh by —was a shocker of epic proportions. It also launched a gradual narrative thread of Michael’s desperate need to be good. Moreover, he wanted to be a good human, striving to improve himself like Eleanor (Kristen Bell), Chidi (William Jackson Harper), Tahani (Jameela Jamil), and Jason (Manny Jacinto). Hey, what else are good friends for if not to help you turn from a literal devil into an angel? At least that’s the message In Michael’s case, the writing successfully achieved this goal. He ends the show by getting his wish—he’s a struggling human, just learning guitar as life goes on. But he also designs a way for everyone to improve, going from crafting personal hellscapes to actual utopia. Now that’s a redemption if we’ve ever seen one. [Saloni Gajjar]

Spoiler alert! It’s fair to say s Peter () died as he lived: on the edge, without fear, and super randomly. You never knew what to expect with series creator Tony McNamara’s version of this notable figure because always kept audiences on their toes, turning history on its head as it unveiled Peter and Catherine’s () love story. Peter started as a murderous asshole on the show, killing and fucking whoever he wanted, consequences be damned. His actions don’t entirely change, but his perspective and reasons do once Catherine comes along and usurps his throne. He uses his affection for her and their newborn son to at least try and become a decent man and supportive husband. (That is, to the best of his abilities—it’s hard for him.) He’s done plenty of irredeemable things, like sleeping with his mother-in-law and then accidentally killing her during sex or murdering Catherine’s not-so-secret lover. However, in , it’s easy to root for the central couple as they try to earnestly overcome their issues. Neither of them is perfect, but at least The Great earns a few huzzahs for ably turning Peter into a lovable figure before icing him to death. [Saloni Gajjar]