Mohammad Amir, once a spearhead of a fine Pakistan bowling attack, is now the front man of the ICC's anti-corruption video, while still being at the front end of criticism on both sides of the boundary rope.
His recent interview with Michael Atherton seemed a little far fetched, overly planned and too much of a victim card, though he has now become the victim of cricket's all-out attack on corruption.
Yes, he was old enough to know what he was doing though pressured enough to do as he was told. But how much in his circumstances have actually changed?
In Amir, while the majority of cricketing powers would rather see him crime free and bowling, his mistake is perhaps the perfect example from which the ICC can launch—for the first time, despite corruption's history—an all-out assault worthy of Amir's own bowling abilities.
In him, they have a guilty man, but not a serial offender like his skillful contemporaries, the menacing Shoaib Akhtar and silky Mohammad Asif.
Further back still, the picture painted of Amir—with wavy hair and boyish charm—is one that an aging Mohammad Azharuddin or Hanse Cronje could never conjure.
There has been no starker reminder to the perils of fixing than the rise and fall of this young Punjabi pace man. It will at the very least deter some from similar crimes.
But to present it as part of the young man's rehabilitation is unfair, unless embarrassment, pity and helplessness are part and parcel of returning to competitive health.
Amir was partially setup two summers ago ahead of the Lord's test and little seems to have changed, unless his ban is reduced or overturned as a result of what appears cricket's equivalent of a Hollywood roast.
Should his ban be reduced, it then brings up the question of why? A punishment should remain a punishment should it not? What good are apologies now.
Yet there is little excuse for his current cricketing torture.