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Laroyce Hawkins Quits 'Chicago PD' After 12 Seasons, Cites 'Spiritual Warfare' And 'Demonic' Atmosphere

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Laroyce Hawkins Quits 'Chicago PD' After 12 Seasons, Cites 'Spiritual Warfare' And 'Demonic' Atmosphere

Laroyce Hawkins Quits 'Chicago PD' After 12 Seasons, Cites 'Spiritual Warfare' And 'Demonic' Atmosphere

Chicago, IL – In a move that has absolutely nobody clutching their pearls, Laroyce Hawkins, the actor who played Officer Kevin Atwater on NBC’s “Chicago PD” for a decade-plus, has officially called it quits. And no, he didn’t leave for a spin-off, a Netflix deal, or to “spend more time with family.” The man straight-up said the set was a front for “spiritual warfare” and a “demonic” atmosphere.

Yes, you read that right. The guy who spent years chasing fictional bad guys in the fictional 21st District is now apparently a self-taught exorcist who peaced out because the vibes were literally hellish. Because of course he did.

Let’s rewind. Hawkins dropped this bombshell during an interview with the *Rolling Out* podcast, where he basically told the world that the *Chicago PD* set was less “One Chicago” and more “One Circle of Hell.” According to Hawkins, the energy on set was so foul he had to tap out to save his own soul. He didn’t name names, but he did imply that the workplace toxicity was so bad it wasn’t just a human resources issue—it was a full-blown biblical plague.

“I had to step away because I felt the spirit of oppression,” Hawkins said, probably while holding a cross and a bottle of holy water. “It wasn’t just drama. It was demonic. I’m not playing games with my spirit.”

Look, I get it. Hollywood is a cesspool. We’ve all seen the exposés. But this is a new flavor of chaos. Usually, actors leave a show because they want to direct, or they got a better offer, or they realized they’ve been playing the same character for so long they’ve forgotten their own name. Hawkins, however, is going full “War Room” on us. He’s claiming the *Chicago PD* writers’ room might as well have been hosting a seance.

And honestly? I’m not even mad. I’m impressed. In an era where everyone quits via a vaguely passive-aggressive Instagram post, this guy went full apocalypse preacher. He didn’t say “I’m leaving to explore other creative opportunities.” He said, “I’m leaving because I felt like I was working on the set of *The Exorcist: Season 13*.” That takes a certain level of unhinged confidence.

But let’s be real for a second. Is anyone actually surprised? “Chicago PD” is a show where the main character, Hank Voight, is a morally gray cop who waterboards suspects and then goes home to have a beer. The show has been criticized for years for glorifying police brutality and for having a set culture that, according to multiple reports, was about as warm as a Chicago winter. Remember when Sophia Bush left in 2017 and basically said the show was a toxic dumpster fire? Remember when Jon Seda left and nobody really knew why? This isn’t a pattern. It’s a tradition.

Hawkins is just the latest soldier to fall on his sword and blame the demons. And I’m not saying he’s wrong. Think about it: you’re on a set for 12 years, filming 22 episodes a year, in Chicago weather that alternates between “freezing” and “also freezing but with more wind.” You’re playing a cop in a post-George Floyd world where everyone on Twitter hates your character. You’re working 16-hour days with actors who might actually be sociopaths. At a certain point, you’re gonna start hearing voices. And if you’re a deeply religious dude like Hawkins, you’re not going to call those voices “burnout” or “depression.” You’re going to call them “demons.”

And let’s not forget the elephant in the interrogation room: the show itself. “Chicago PD” has always had this weird, gritty energy that makes you feel like you need a shower after watching. It’s not a cozy procedural. It’s a show where the heroes regularly commit felonies and the bad guys are usually dead by the end credits. If you’re an actor who takes his craft seriously—and Hawkins clearly did, given his decade-long tenure—you’re going to absorb some of that darkness. You’re playing a cop who watches his partner get shot, gets shot himself, and then has to go home and pretend to be a normal person. That’s not acting. That’s trauma with a SAG card.

But here’s the kicker: Hawkins isn’t just blaming the demons. He’s also throwing shade at the “system.” In the same interview, he said the industry is “built on a foundation of lies and manipulation” and that he had to “cut ties with the spirit of Hollywood.” Translation: “I’m done with the 5 AM call times and the notes from executive producers who think they’re Steven Spielberg.”

The internet, predictably, has lost its collective mind. The AITA subreddit is having a field day. The top comment on the news thread is, “YTA for not telling us which cast member is actually a demon. Is it Voight? It’s Voight, isn’t it?” Another user posted, “Bro said ‘spiritual warfare’ like he wasn’t just tired of reading lines about the ‘code of silence.’” And my personal favorite: “Imagine quitting a job because you think it’s demonic, but you still have to pay rent in Chicago. That’s a special kind of faith.”

But here’s the thing: Hawkins might actually be on to something. Not the demon part—that’s just a guy trying to make a dramatic exit sound profound. But the part about the industry being toxic? That’s just called “Tuesday” in Hollywood. We’ve seen the strikes, the scandals, the union battles. We know the entertainment industry is a machine that chews up human beings and spits

Final Thoughts


Having covered enough exits in this town to know a forced departure from a scripted drama rarely feels organic, Hawkins' departure reads less like a creative pivot and more like a backstage casualty of a show struggling to find its footing. The loss of a character with such quiet, lived-in gravitas—a counterweight to the show's more theatrical impulses—is a telling sign that *Chicago P.D.* is doubling down on procedural flash over the ensemble depth that once made it must-watch TV. My gut says this isn't just the end of a character arc; it's a signal that the show’s creative well is running dry, and fans accustomed to blue-collar authenticity should brace for more polish and less soul.