I’m no lawyer. This is not legal advice. Don’t take legal advice from me. If you’re in trouble, find yourself a real one.

With that out of the way — Cory Coddington’s problems are stacking up like cordwood, and I’m here for all of it.

Let’s start with where things actually stand, because the record is wilder than anything I could make up. According to the State’s Motion for Pre-Trial Detention, filed June 10 by the State Attorney’s Office, here’s the highlight reel from June 6 in Deerfield Beach:

He crashed his vehicle into a fixed object on East Hillsboro. Then, per the motion, he climbed into the car of the woman who’d stopped to check whether he was okay — and told her to “stay the fuck back,” putting her in fear for her life. Then he drove off in her car. Classy.

He abandoned the ride at the Daily’s on North Federal, wandered in, cracked open a White Claw, drank it, ate a frozen chocolate banana, and strolled past every register without paying for a single thing. A four-dollar seltzer and a three-dollar banana. This is the master-criminal energy we’re dealing with.

When deputies caught up to him, the motion says he fought, kicked, braced, and refused to comply. And then — and I want to be precise here, because this is straight out of a sworn court filing signed by an Assistant State Attorney — he announced “I have a bomb,” followed by “I’ll grab your dick,” then reached for a deputy and, missing his target, ended up putting a finger in the Sergeant’s anus. After that he demanded a deputy’s gun and grabbed for it. Then, for the encore, while BSO Fire Rescue was treating his arm, he leaned forward and head-butted the rescuer.

A controlled substance turned up in his front left pocket during the search. I’ll note here that BSO’s press release called it MDMA and the State’s detention motion calls it methamphetamine — so take your pick, because the people who arrested him can’t agree on what they found.

Now here’s the part the cheering section back home doesn’t want to sit with.

Coddington didn’t get to this June crash out of nowhere. Up in Palm Beach County, he’d already been given chances most people never see. There was the matter of his wife’s blue iPhone — the one he grabbed off her, by sworn account, during a 2 a.m. argument. There was a no-contact order he wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near. And there’s a battery in his history. Palm Beach handed him mulligan after mulligan and put him on probation. He had every opportunity to keep his nose clean and quietly disappear into a normal life.

Instead, allegedly, he stole a hard seltzer, fought a pack of deputies, and committed an act of impromptu colorectal exploration on a Sergeant.

So now the cascade. As of the filings I’ve got, the State isn’t offering a bond — they’ve moved to hold him with no release at all, calling carjacking a dangerous crime under Florida law. If a bond gets set down the line and he posts it, the Palm Beach probation problem is still sitting there waiting, patient as a spider. As my attorney Tommy Wright likes to say — they’re going to want their pound of flesh. And Palm Beach’s pound of flesh and Broward’s pound of flesh are two entirely separate cuts of meat.

As for the 340# Coddington, he’s got lots of meat to spare.

And the locals — the same upstanding citizens who once raised holy hell about me, who decided Chaz Stevens was the worst thing to happen to this town — have gone awful quiet now that one of their own is the headline. Funny how that works. I wonder why, guys. I really do.

I was an idiot once. Most everybody was, when they were young. But I’ll tell you what I never did. I never ran anybody over. I never stole a woman’s phone. I never picked a fight with a Sergeant’s hindquarters. I raised my hand, I owned my nonsense, and I didn’t leave a trail of victims behind me.

Coddington’s trail keeps getting longer. And cry me a river.