The most famous pair of pants in the country may no longer pass inspection, but the man who wore them as he arrested the No. 1 golfer in the world cannot bear to throw them out either.

The pants are not stored somewhere in a Louisville Police precinct evidence room. They were not dropped off at Goodwill. They are in a box somewhere in Bryan Gillis’ Louisville home, although he said he can’t remember where. They were his pants, the officer was proud to tell The Athletic, so they remain his pants. He tossed the remnants of that bizarre Friday in May into a box, including the handcuffs that were placed around Scottie Scheffler’s wrists, put them away and has tried not to think about them in the year since the strangest day in golf history.

“Oh, I still have them,” Gillis said during a phone conversation. “Nobody took them. They’ve always been mine, so they’re still mine.”

One year ago, Gillis attempted to stop Scheffler’s car from pulling into Gate 1 of Valhalla Country Club on a rainy morning before the second round of the PGA Championship. Because of a fatal accident earlier in the morning, the entrance was closed. Gillis told Scheffler to stop, but due to what Scheffler characterized as a misunderstanding, he continued driving. Gillis then attached himself to Scheffler’s car and — according to police records — was “dragged” to the ground, suffering “pain, swelling and abrasions to his left wrist and knee.”

But the everlasting line from that police citation, the one that achieved instant virality, came at its conclusion.

Detective Gillis’ uniform pants, valued at approximately $80, were damaged beyond repair.

But how much are those infamously irreparable pants worth now?

They might be worth as much as $20,000.

Scheffler spent that morning “shaking with fear” in a cop car and stretching in a jail cell before being released and rushing to the course ahead of his tee time. In true Scheffler fashion, he shot a second-round 66 to rise up the leaderboard. Aside from the traumatic nature of the experience (and the tragedy of the life lost hours before), it amplified Scheffler’s celebrity and added to his legend. It became an international news story, the rare moment when golf found itself on CNN.

Gillis, meanwhile, became golf’s newest ancillary character. The butt of all jokes. The man with the $80 pants who soon received “corrective action” from the Louisville Metro Police Department for not turning on his body cam.

The Athletic reached out to Officer Gillis this month to ask one simple question. The pants: Where are they now?

In a notably concise interview with brief answers, Gillis said he still hasn’t decided what to do with the fame and attention. He did not want to speak about the incident itself or his personal life, and said he received “harassing phone calls” for months.

Gillis has thought about it, but no, the pants are not for sale.

“There’s been a million different thoughts about that,” he said, “and everybody has a different opinion on how to market it, but I chose not to.”

Scottie Scheffler’s arrest had an immediate impact on his celebrity, fans cheering for him at new levels that weekend in Louisville. (Patrick Smith / Getty Images)

Friends in the police force often ask Gillis to sign hats or other memorabilia and some get a kick out of playing golf in a hat signed by the man who arrested the best golfer in the world. Sometimes he’ll be in a store and get stopped by someone who then says: “You’re the officer who arrested Scottie Scheffler!”

After the charges were dropped, Gillis released a statement on the incident, playfully ending with: “Yes, the department has us buying freaking $80 pants. To those concerned, they were indeed ruined. But Scottie, it’s all good. I never would’ve guessed I’d have the most famous pair of pants in the country for a few weeks because of this. Take care and be safe.”

Gillis is not inherently opposed to selling the pants.

Ryan Carey, founder and president of Golden Age Auctions, said there is absolutely value if Gillis were to auction them, but the longer removed from the day of the incident, the less valuable they become.

“On the spot that day, that week, they were $20,000 pants, I’d say,” Carey said. “Right now, I think they’re still worth at least $5,000.”

It’s complicated, though. If Gillis went out on his own to make a profit from the incident and wasn’t strategic about where he auctioned them, Carey said they might only sell for a few thousand dollars. If Scheffler and Gillis joined forces and added a charity component — perhaps with a video of Scheffler joking about the incident or talking with Gillis — the pants might fetch closer to $20,000.

Carey’s motto is often that the item itself doesn’t change. It’s the story around the item that adds value.

For example, if you found an old golf club at a flea market with Arnold Palmer’s name on it and you could claim he used the club, it might be worth $1,000. But if you also find a clip of Palmer holding that club and saying it’s his favorite club and the reason he won the Masters? Suddenly it’s worth a million. The club didn’t change. The story did.

One similar example could be the red sequinned costume figure skater Tonya Harding wore the day after rival Nancy Kerrigan was attacked at the 1994 Olympic Trials. It sold for $17,485 in 2024.

“That is a moment in history,” Carey said. “So while on one hand it seems silly that a pair of torn police officer pants can sell for upwards of $10,000 or $20,000, the fact of the matter is it’s a piece of golf history.”

This kind of value has been brought to Gillis’ attention. He’s not ruling it out. At first, he just wanted things to slow down. The random phone calls finally settled down after about a month. A year later, he doesn’t even remember where the box with the pants and handcuffs are.

“For right now, nothing,” Gillis said. “I could in the future. If somebody wanted them and offered me something, maybe yes. I haven’t really put much thought into that.”

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(Illustration: Will Tullos / The Athletic; Photo of Scottie Scheffler: Ben Jared / PGA Tour via Getty Images)