
Once a rising star on the football field, Christopher Pazan, former University of Illinois quarterback and current Chicago police officer, now finds himself embroiled in an unexpected scandal. Alas, life seems to have taken a less glamorous turn for Mr. Pazan, who faces allegations of lifting $300 worth of baseball cards from a suburban Meijer store in Evergreen Park. Dreamy touchdown passes have been replaced by a far less elegant dash for the exit.
Pazan’s alleged escapade bore an uncanny resemblance to a scene from a low-budget heist film. According to Sgt. Victor Watts of the Evergreen Park Police, the drama unfolded Wednesday afternoon. A vigilant security guard caught the 41-year-old on video, attempting to stealthily whisk away baseball cards by ingeniously hiding them inside a yard waste bag. Pazan, it appears, only paid for the bag, but the cards made it into his possession without making a pit stop at the cash register.
In a swift response not seen since his days on the gridiron, Pazan found himself relieved of his police powers by the Chicago Police Department. An internal investigation is now underway. Previously, Pazan was assigned to the Morgan Park District and had been detailed to the central investigations division—ironically, the very squad that handles cases of financial crimes, among other things. One could say, he’s now seeing things from the other side of the badge.
Getting a comment from Pazan or his legal representatives is proving as elusive as tracking down any incriminating evidence under the watchful eyes of a smart courtroom drama’s jury. It’s been a case of phone tag meets sudden amnesia—efforts to reach his attorney have been insubstantial and mirror a quirky chapter in legal frustrations.
Before his less-than-glorious stint as a police officer took a nosedive, Pazan had a realm of achievements in sports. A glittering past saw him as a standout quarterback at Brother Rice High School in Mount Greenwood, earning All-American honors. With his talent propelling him onto the University of Illinois football field, he even started in a few games, solidifying his role as a noteworthy athlete. Then, after dabbling in coaching at Illinois and St. Joseph’s College, he decided to patrol the streets, choosing the badge over the pigskin.
In an illuminating 2015 interview with the Chicago Tribune, Pazan disclosed his eagerness to don the badge by echoing his desire to contribute to society differently. He even added law enforcement to his skillset on the field, playing football as a member of the Chicago Enforcers, a team composed of officers in a police football league. It was a game of tackling crime and the gridiron for a man seemingly capable of juggling both.
But, as life’s tragi-comedies go, the plot thickens, involving financial twists that would keep any accountant up at night. Even though Pazan drew a commendable salary of $111,804 (excluding overtime), the numbers behind the scenes tell a different tale. The looming shadow of financial distress lurked like a pantomime villain. Pazan’s world unraveled further with divorce proceedings. He was expected in court the same day as his alleged larceny, quite a double-header in stress-inducing agendas.
Adding more comedic timing to an otherwise serious plot, his past attorney, Tania K. Harvey, requested her dues, an amount exceeding $5,800 in unpaid fees—a not-so-gentle reminder from past courtroom skirmishes. Now, amid floating legal dilemmas, the lawman’s current legal wranglers are drawing up rescue plans to refinance his Beverly home, desperately attempting to patch up battered finances and settlements.
Pazan’s financial struggles aren’t exactly flash news. The broadcast has been 24/7. Fifth Third Bank, in a previous act of fiscal pursuit, tried to collect a sum over $4,000, only for the chapter to close with an empty-handed villain as they couldn’t pin him down. Not to be one-upped, JPMorgan Chase lobbed in a lawsuit for a sum north of $15,000. However, the saga reached its credit-clad climax with a settlement, cleverly settled by mid-2024.
City hiring guidelines reinforce that recruits swamped with significant debt could be shown the academy’s revolving doors. The rationale is straightforward: those coping with financial turbulence could be more adorning as guests on shows featuring tales of corruption or financial pressure.
Now facing legal action, Pazan finds himself answering to a misdemeanor charge of retail theft. Mark your calendars, folks; June 23rd is his scheduled debut in Bridgeview Court. The former athlete and, more recently, cop’s next appearance may lack the grandeur of a sporting showdown or policing feat but rest assured, it promises a plot worth watching as the legal pages turn with inevitable drama.