Mostly, the phrase is trotted out when we are baying for the blood of some sports hero who has fallen from grace after drunken or sexual misadventures, and often both.
But every now and then someone gets thrust into the limelight who truly deserves that title.
The parents of 4-year-old Nayan Woods, the boy who died after being hit by a car driven by a teenager while on a Christchurch footpath earlier this year, are such people.
There is no doubt they would rather still be anonymous, since what forced them into the headlines was the death of their much-loved son, and the injury to his older brother Jacob (6) and mother Emma.
Those of us who have treasured our time with our 4-year-old sons - that marvellous age which holds such promise; when they are able to articulate their very special logic and view of the world; a time of innocence and incredulity which sadly never seems as fresh once they begin school - ache for Emma and Duncan Woods.
We know our aching will not change anything.
It cannot restore their darling son.
It will not make them feel better.
But we should look at what they have done since this devastating event in their lives and listen closely.
Card carrying members of the hang 'em high brigade who support moves such as the three-strikes legislation or anything else which offers a one-size-fits-all style of "justice" removing as much discretion from judges as possible, should be particularly attentive.
The Woods' story should be used as a starting point for thoughtful and reasonable discussions throughout society about what we expect from our justice system.
For in the midst of this tragedy, this family have been able to talk more sense about true justice and judgement than I have heard in a long time.
Emma and Duncan both recently responded to suggestions from commentators Michael Laws and Brian Edwards that their wish for the driver of the car that killed their son, Ashley Austin, not to be jailed was somehow misguided or foolishly compassionate.
Those writers seemed to think the Woods had too much influence over the sentencing of Austin, something which could lead, as Laws put it, to sentences dependent upon the attitude of the aggrieved.
Not so said Emma, pointing out that the family's impact statements were only part of what the judge was trained to take into account when sentencing.
"The police report did not recommend a jail sentence. The probation officer did not see it as the right option."
As Emma stated in her Sunday Star Times response to Laws: "The role of the justice system is to look at the facts of each case and deliberate. I was in the court and I heard the judge explain for 30 minutes why he was setting the sentence."
In his communication with Brian Edwards, Duncan agreed "... In fact from what I observed I could have yelled at him as you would have had me do, and I doubt the outcome would have been any different. The only difference I see is that a different sector of society would support and condemn my actions."
Emma Woods explained why she did not believe jail was the best option.
"I believe taxpayers fund prisons for two reasons - to rehabilitate someone, or to protect society. Neither reason fits this case."
To the suggestion that it was dangerous to forgive killers, Emma said "I think its more dangerous to sentence someone on the basis of what precedent it might set for a future case that might not bear any similarities to the present one."
The Woods saw that while the modifications to Austin's car may have contributed to the accident, they were not the cause.
That was an error in driving, combined with slippery conditions and his lack of skills to correct the vehicle.
He was not a hoon or a boy racer, but a young man who had made an horrendous mistake.
The Woods have reached out to Austin and his family, something Emma makes clear is not easy, requiring strength on both sides.
Duncan explains these behaviours are not directed in the best interest of Ashley Austin, but at the life that remains.
"... I let go of anger and hatred so that I don't be a contagion of these things for my living son. My actions are not noble, they are born of what I believe are the best things I can do for him."
What a family.
I have been at a loss for words in the face of such eloquence and wisdom, drawn instead to repeating the refrain from a hymn by Dunedin's Colin Gibson which ends thus: "Let justice roll down like a river, Let justice begin through me."
Elspeth McLean is a Dunedin writer.
