Meanwhile, around town, I hear the friends of Cory—and the usual Bobby Blow pals—saying a prayer for MDMA.
“Jesus, lord Jesus, can I get a Hail Mary. And one righteous mother’effin’ rave?”
It’s a fascinating sociological event when the town idiots decide to canonize a guy staring down two first-degree felonies. The enablers, always quick with the fraudulent sympathy, are out lighting candles for the man caught holding the party bag.
But what about the actual collateral damage?
There’s a real woman who was simply existing in the world before a combative man fleeing a crash violently hijacked her car. Someone was put in credible fear for their life—that’s what an aggravated-assault-with-a-deadly-weapon charge requires. And what about the property he plowed into, the minimum-wage workers, and the fast-food lot he turned into a crime scene?
Let alone the kid and his waffle fry.
All of it swept under the rug so the fan club can weep over the plight of the accused. They pray for the perpetrator and ghost the victims.
Flying Blind into the Ledee Trap
The comedic gold in Atty. Williams’s filing is buried in paragraph eight: the defense doesn’t even have the police reports or probable cause affidavits yet.
They’re flying blind. Williams is asking the court to set a reasonable bond for a man facing two first-degree felonies while openly admitting he has no idea what the deputies caught on body cam. He’s banking on Coddington having been “booked in absentia,” daring the court to hold an incapacitated man without bond on medical grounds alone.
But strip away the medical tubing and look at the venue.
Judge Frank Ledee is not a bleeding-heart jurist who weeps over a defense attorney’s mental-health prose, and he’s not moved by an emotional-support campaign. Before the bench, Ledee spent 25 years as an Assistant State Attorney, running the Multi-Agency Gang Strike Force and the Gun Violence Unit in Miami-Dade.
Cory and his Wheels could not have gotten a worse break.
I could not have asked for a better Jurist.
Booyah!
A textualist former gang prosecutor is going to read the sequence and see a desperate narcotics distributor. Ledee knows what a trafficking-weight bag looks like, and he knows it isn’t a symptom of a mental-health flare-up.
By leaning so hard on “significant mental health issues,” Williams is handing Ledee the exact justification to deny bond outright under Fla. Stat. § 907.041. You can’t argue your client was so out of control he blacked out, drove into a tree, and hijacked a stranger’s car—and in the same breath demand he be released back onto the streets pending trial.
As for anyone in town whose weekend itineraries were relying on that specific, trafficking-weight party bag? Oh well. With that supply chain currently sitting in a BSO evidence locker, you’ll just have to switch to Peruvian Marching Powder. Hopefully, you know a guy.
