Let's talk the “Varsity Blues” indictments (aka the college admissions scandal). Bribes, lying and artifice all deployed with but a single purpose by the wealthy and connected to wedge their undeserving kids into the rarefied ranks of students at elite universities.

Because many believe they are destined, but only a handful arrive, William Springer “masterminded “ various schemes ranging from using ringers to take standardized tests to creating false student/athlete personas ranging in price from $15,000 to $500,000. You may not think that you would engage in this conduct. But you are wrong. Any of us could, including yours truly. Here are four danger signs to alert us when we are sliding into an ethical abyss.

Danger Sign No. 1: Neutering the Language

Gordon Caplan was the co-chair of an international law firm. Springer, who the FBI caught and flipped, tape recorded conversations with all the indicted, including Caplan. Caplan repeatedly asks Springer if the universities ever has an “issue” with his approaches. Caplan sounds just like a lawyer negotiating the testimony of an expert witness (“Has a court ever discredited your methodology?”).

Caplan is euphemistically asking, “Have you ever been caught?” But he can't choke out words he really needs to say. Non-specific language comforts one at the start but condemns one at the end. (A classic example is the Pennsylvania State University scandal in which Jerry Sandusky's conduct toward his young charges was characterized as “horseplay.”)

Danger Sign No. 2: Normalizing Unethical Conduct

“When devils will the blackest sins/ put on/ they do suggest at first with/ heavenly shows.” That's Iago from Shakespeare's “Othello.” Same with Varsity Blues. In the recorded conversations, Springer remarks that “we have helped lots and lots of families” and been doing so without a problem for “24 years.”

Here he is explaining how he has helped almost 800 families: “So who we are—what we do is help the wealthiest families in the U.S. get their kids into school. So [I created] what I would call side doors. There is a front door which means you get in on your own merit. The back door is through institutional advancement which is 10 times as much money [or] somebody's got a friend of a friend.” You can see the ad make itself: “Getting your child into the university of choice through side doors for 24 years. Never an issue. Trust in us.” The transcripts are also replete with the indicted using email as if they are closing on some movie deal or conducting business as usual.

Danger Sign No. 3: 'I did not do anything wrong.'

On day one of teaching a professional responsibility course we discuss the dilemma posed by the scenario of “The Runaway Trolley Car and the Fat Man.” You and a fat man are waiting for a trolley car. But it is careening out of control. If not stopped, it will kill five children that are at the track's end and who are oblivious to the danger. Do you push the fat man onto the rails to save the kids? Studies show that an average of 90% of people say an emphatic “no.” Change the hypothetical: You merely need to push a button, a trap door opens, and the fat man slides onto the tracks. What then? An average of 90% push the button.

The different results are explained by Eugene Soltes in “Why They Do It: Inside the Mind of the White-Collar Criminal.” Pushing the button means that you did nothing. The agency of the button protects his morality and your conscience. And here is the bonus room for those involved in Varsity Blues: No one gets hurt that can be identified. Yes, some kid got aced out of a seat that really belonged to her but you never know her name or see her face. And the transcripts are full of comments directed to Springer that he do “his magic” and that “I don't even want to know what you guys do.“ Nice and bundled up just like your laundry service.

Warning Sign No. 4: Ignoring the Tipping Point

“I am in blood steeped in so far that should I wade no more/ returning were as tedious as go o'er.” That's Macbeth deciding he is too far in to change course. With all unethical conduct you come to a point(s) where you can say to yourself, “What am I doing? I am better than that.”

You see it in the movie “Hoosiers” when Gene Hackman gets to the semi-finals, a player is injured and the team doctor wants to pull him out of the game. Hackman says no way and then his face clouds over and you know exactly what he is thinking: “This isn't the human being I am.” We see it with Caplan when he asks his daughter to lie to doctors and say she is “stupid” in order to get extra time on the ACT (part of Springer's plans); with the parent who submits a false picture of her daughter playing water polo; with actress Lori Loughlin learning that a guidance counselor is grilling her daughter on the truth of the application. Each a moment of inflection point, each a moment to regain your identity, each a moment to say “this far and no further.” Take it.

A client or friend comes to you and they are in an ethical pickle. Chances are they are vague about the details but you get the drift. First, do no finger point and act all superior. Be humble. Embrace empathy. Then recall what I tell our students: “Go to Google for an answer but to a lawyer for a questions. Questions help re-orient. Try prospective hindsight: Ask if there is an 'issue' what will be the likely consequences. Can we imagine them?” Or ask if X is your goal, and you want to do A, is there a B, C or D we can use to achieve the goal? And try asking, “You seem time-pressured. If you had 10 times as much time to engage in this conduct would it be the same conduct?”

Look: Each of us will lose our way. Doing so is all too human. But finding our way back, with the help of friends and counselors, is the flip side of the coin. Be a friend. Be a counselor.