Do not underestimate the significance of what happened in the Alabama Ethics Commission Wednesday.

Do not underestimate what happened to the life, the career, and the legacy of Gov. Robert Bentley.

It was - make no mistake about this -- a boot to the gut, a kick to a man who was already spiraling down. It was a stunning blow to a man who was in many ways already broken.

It is hard, today, to imagine Bentley serving out the remainder of his term.

It's hard to envision him surviving the summer.

And it had little to do with the sweet nothings he whispered to former aide Rebekah Caldwell Mason. It had nothing to do with sex, or tawdry come-ons, or simple mistakes of the flesh.

It had everything to do with the kind of arrogance that always gets politicians in trouble. It had to do with using the people's money and equipment - not to mention public employees - to conceal or cover up his own improprieties. It had to do with using campaign money as he saw fit, for thinking the law is just a suggestion that did not apply to him.

Bentley knew it. He knew it was a momentous day even before the commission found probable cause to believe he violated the Alabama Ethics Law and the Fair Campaign Practices act. The commission referred four potential felonies to the Montgomery DA, each one of them a possible 20 years in prison.

It is a serious thing. Perhaps more serious than the governor's heart condition. Which is why Bentley showed up to testify before the Ethics Commission Wednesday, to unsuccessfully refute the witnesses that came before that body and incriminated him.

Bentley leaving the Ethics Commission. (Mickey Welsh, Montgomery Advertiser)

The public was not allowed to see it, but former Alabama Law Enforcement Secretary Spencer Collier testified in the morning, and former campaign strategist Angi Horn Stalnaker. His former bodyguard, Ray Lewis, spoke before the panel. These are his former friends, people who he has, in the last 18 months, worked to discredit and destroy.

And they weren't the only ones. Secretary of State John Merrill testified. So did another former bodyguard, and others.

That Bentley showed up at all was telling.

And he didn't want you to know he was there. Bentley and state employees in the RSA Union Building pulled out all the stops to keep him from being seen. They moved people off half a dozen floors of the building, pushed onlookers off the sidewalks and out of the lobby of the public building.

They used a caravan of three black state SUVs to hide the governor's presence, to whisk him away to his office. To his office across the street.

It was clear from his face that Bentley knew the import of all that happened.

It was clear in a picture captured by Montgomery Advertiser photographer Mickey Welsh as he tried to slip away. It weighed on him.

Bentley knew. Wednesday was the end of the beginning, and the beginning of the end.

And it only gets worse from here.

On Friday Jack Sharman, the lawyer hired by the House committee preparing to impeach Bentley, is expected to reveal and release the report of his investigative findings, including witness testimony and records.

It's the first step in an impeachment process that will, in the slipstream of this decision, be propelled to inevitability.

If the House votes to impeach the issue moves to the Senate for what amounts to trial. If the House votes to impeach - and this is big for Bentley - he cannot serve as governor while the case is being adjudicated.

He is out as governor at that point.

And Lieutenant Gov. Kay Ivey is in.

But even if the Senate refuses to go along with impeachment - even then - he's not free to simply contemplate retirement. For the attorney general has its own investigation in its back pocket.

Wednesday was a gut punch to Robert Bentley, a man who wanted to believe he was so loved by the people that he could do no wrong. It was a heavy blow for a man who so believed he was hand-picked by God that he acted as if rules were meant for lesser men.

He will not be governor for long.