Reche Caldwell is currently serving a 27-month prison sentence, and a new ESPN The Magazine story chronicles exactly how the ex-wide receiver arrived in the minimum-security facility.

Long story short, he’s the dumbest criminal you will ever meet.

After retiring from the NFL, Caldwell was arrested for running an illegal gambling operation, ordering the drug Molly online and driving with cannabis in his car.

There are quite a few highlights to all these arrests, but nothing beats how he decided to become a drug dealer:

Caldwell says that on May 8 he simply opened up Google, typed in MDMA-Molly-China and watched as dozens of websites popped up offering to sell the drug and ship it right to his front door. (Challenged on this, Caldwell says, “You got your phone on you? Try it. It’s easy.” He is, in fact, correct.) Caldwell did the math: An investment of less than $2,000 could net as much as $180,000 on the street. Three taps of the mouse, a trip to Western Union and “the stuff was on its way,” he says. “So easy and out in the open, I kinda did it just to see if it was a scam.”

How an undercover DEA agent posing as the delivery guy gets him to sign for the package is another gem:

Caldwell answered the door and quickly scanned the yard, street and air searching for trouble. Sensing none, he drew an X on the signature pad and reached for the box. Caldwell remembers the agent drew back, then improvised: “With international deliveries, I need a verifiable signature or I can’t release the package.” Caldwell glanced back over his shoulder at his phone sitting on a hallway table, realizing at that moment that using an app to obsessively track this package, along with another kilo he had forwarded to Atlanta, probably wasn’t the smartest idea. If this is it, he thought, they already got me. Caldwell shrugged, waved for the clipboard and gave what turned out to be his last high-profile signature. The courtyard exploded like a confetti cannon, with dozens of agents and officers materializing from behind every bush, doorway and corner that Caldwell’s acute criminal instincts had deemed clear just 10 seconds before. Familiar by now with SWAT team procedures, Caldwell dutifully lowered himself face-first onto the stone porch stoop as one thought ran through his head: “Aw, man, not again.”

The story portrays Caldwell as a man whose life went downhill after this horrendous drop in the 2007 AFC title game.

Putting a series of crimes on a drop that probably nobody outside New England remembers seems like a lot. Caldwell was rich and bored, and let’s be honest here — who amongst us hasn’t looked for unsavory things online? Baldness cures? Impotence fixes? Pornography? But enough about my browser history.