There is a long list to be made about what is wrong with rugby's judicial system.
Its inconsistencies have long been a source of confusion, so too the length of time it takes to hold a hearing. But this week a new failing was exposed, which is the power of remorse, real or otherwise, to cut a sentence for an offender.
Land a swinging arm into an opponent's head and face a four-week ban. But land a swinging arm into an opponent's head, try to apologise afterwards and see that ban cut in half.
This, of course, is what happened in the now infamous case of Owen Franks versus James Parsons.
The Crusaders prop avoided sanction during last week's game against the Blues but only because the incident was discovered by the officials too late for them to act.
But Franks knew he was going to be cited by Sanzaar and sought out Parsons after the game to say sorry, but the Blues hooker wasn't willing to engage.
Franks, an old-school character with an appreciation of the unwritten front-rowers code, most likely was genuinely remorseful for collecting Parsons' head the way he did and was sincere in his efforts to say sorry.
But because the wording in the judiciary's summary said Franks had apologised rather than had tried to apologise, Parsons sparked up to say that wasn't true and in doing so made everyone wonder how often players have been given reduced sentences on the basis they told the judicial hearing they had said sorry when in fact they hadn't.
If no one actually checks to see if the player in question really has apologised, then the system has no integrity or credibility.
There is a bigger issue, though, which is that the Franks' case has inadvertently made it easy to assume now there is a level of cynicism and insincerity built into the process.
Players are rewarded for being remorseful or for at least giving the impression they regret their actions and because of that any post foul play apology carries the taint of having been made to play the system; to tick the box and win a lighter sentence.
Perhaps this shouldn't matter. Professional sport, after all, is not governed by a code of sporting ethics, but rugby feels it sits on higher moral ground and tries to differentiate itself by continuing to insist it has retained some parts of its amateur past.
Most specifically, rugby has clung to the notion it is a game for hooligans played by gentlemen while football is a game for gentlemen played by hooligans and hence there has been an adherence to various long-standing customs such as the captain inquiring to the health of an injured opponent and for those guilty of operating outside the rules to take responsibility for it by apologising to those directly affected.
As Franks' lawyer Aaron Lloyd said: "We can't lose sight of the fact that we're playing a game that has a collegiality to it. We are rugby people and so things like that are important."
Those running the game appear now to be under pressure to make a choice. If they want to continue to adopt a slightly smug attitude about rugby's superior culture of sportsmanship and ethics, then they need to remove the showing of remorse as a tool within the judicial process.
No one will buy that players are genuinely sorry or guided by their moral compass when there is such an obvious ulterior motive attached.
If the ban for a specific act of foul play is four weeks, make the player serve four weeks and not care whether they are remorseful or not.
If that same player seeks out his victim to apologise knowing it won't change the outcome of the hearing, then rugby can continue to take pride in its collegial culture and say with impunity that it's ethical code is observed and important.
Or, rugby can continue to offer reduced terms for those offenders who say they are sorry but give up with the pious, holier-than-thou stance about it upholding higher standards than other codes.
And it would be quite nice to think they will pick the former path which has a higher level of integrity ingrained within it and a better way to allow rugby's old codes of fair play and sportsmanship flourish.