The road to the current crisis in the judiciary was neither direct nor inevitable. During good times, there seemed to be enough money for everyone. When times turned bad, however, the politicians took it out on the judges. The most notorious instance of legislators trampling over the judiciary in the modern era came in the 1980s. Senate president William Bulger, the then–Beacon Hill strongman, wanted Sonny McDonough’s son appointed a clerk on the Housing Court. E. George Daher, the chief judge of the Housing Court, refused. Bulger retaliated: the legislature ultimately incorporated the Housing Court into the Boston Municipal Court (a decision later overturned by court order), demoted Daher, and cut his pay by $2500.

During the good times that followed, the memory of Bulger receded and the legislature took advantage of the public’s political ennui. When locked in a personnel dispute with local judges, Senator Mark Montigny of New Bedford, for example, helped create financial deficits at the Bristol County court. The dispute made only regional news. But with the return of tight financial times, the practice of turning the judicial branch into a budgetary sacrificial lamb is back on the front burner.

The Massachusetts courts and criminal-justice system, it must be pointed out, are not unique in facing budget cuts this year. The National Journal reported in December that the recession is prompting cutbacks across the country: New Hampshire, in a cost-saving move, will not hold jury trials for four months this year. Florida courts have implemented a system-wide hiring freeze. Courts in King County (Seattle), Washington, face a $3 million cut this year. Yet judges in Massachusetts — who have heavier caseloads than jurists in either New Hampshire or Seattle — confront the added difficulty of facing fiscal deficits without having the autonomy to shift money from healthy courts to those that need funds the most.

Advocates for the legal system think that the state’s budget crisis may make the court’s problems the worst in recent state history. "Our concern through all this is that next year is probably going to be worse than this year," says Joseph McDonough, executive director of the Massachusetts Judges Conference, the organization that lobbies on behalf of the judiciary. "The revenues coming into the state are down. The state has indicated that they’re going to reduce local revenues on the cities and towns by 10 percent. That is a harbinger that we’re going to receive even more cuts."

Martin Healy, general counsel of the Massachusetts Bar Association, says anyone who has a case in the legal system in the coming year will feel the effects of the cutbacks. "We understand there are going to be a couple hundred people laid off," he says. "There’s going to be less of an ability to deal with the day-to-day aspects of the job so justice can be dispensed. It’s going to take longer for some disputes to be heard, whether its in divorce court or a dispute in civil practice."

And if lawyers are bracing themselves for even deeper cuts to come, some judges are in a downright "angry mood." One such jurist is Court of Appeals judge Frederick Brown, who maintains that the courts can no longer operate in the face of the legislature’s relentless, heavy-handed budget cuts. "When murderers can’t get a speedy trial and rapists return to the neighborhood, I think the public will have to come to the decision which side are they on," says Brown. "I know that the children’s services and all sorts of government agencies are underfunded," he acknowledges. "But if Swift can’t get enough money for DSS that’s her problem. It’s not my problem. My problem is to put murderers in jail and settle disputes between businesses and do justice."

Defenders of the legislature’s actions, and particularly of Finneran, maintain that this is the wrong time for judges to pick a fight. First, they argue, the judicial cutbacks should be viewed in the broader context of all statewide budget cuts. With so many other state programs on the chopping block, they find it somewhat untoward for judges to raise a ruckus over their own particular interest. "The reality is that there are so many important state programs going through budget cuts right now," says Cheryl Cronin, an attorney at Holland & Knight, whose clients have included Finneran.

Those partial to Finneran make a second point privately. For the first time, the Speaker gave the Trial Court chief administrative justice Barbara Dortch-Okara more authority to move funds in December. But the legislature’s empowerment of the administrative judge is temporary; it expires in April. This unusual response to the financial crunch is driving rampant speculation about the Speaker’s motives — much of which surrounds the person of the administrative judge.

Depending on whom you talk to and whether you favor the legislature or the judiciary, the actions of the administrative judge have played into the impending crisis between the courts and Beacon Hill. Dortch-Okara, who has been at the center of many conflicts with the legislature — notably the one over probation officers — is something of a unique figure in state politics. Selected for the post by former SJC chief justice Herbert Wilkins in 1998, the African-American Dortch-Okara was the first woman appointed an administrative judge. Critics charge that she is both in over her head and overly focused on "diversity-related" issues. Defenders say this criticism merely distracts from the agenda of those who wish to see patronage in the courts continue. "It’s not affirmative action. It’s just fairness," says Brown, attributing the legislature’s discomfort with Dortch-Okara to her unwillingness to go along with the patronage system. "She’s black, and she’s a woman, and she’s not a member of the club."

Whatever the cause, there appears to be a problem between Dortch-Okara and the legislature. But if that’s the case, why is Finneran — for the first time ever — giving her so much control over the courts’ finances this year? Some jurists sense that he is setting a trap. The Speaker might believe he can defuse the issue of judicial autonomy for good by handing over administrative control temporarily — thinking that nobody, no matter how qualified, can manage the budget during such a difficult year.

"If he has confidence in her inability to manage, he can say, ‘We gave you the power to fund the courts and what did you do with it? I’m not going to give it to you again,’" says one legal observer, adding that it looks like a set-up. Given the April 1 deadline and Dortch-Okara’s lack of staff and resources, the deck appears stacked against her.

Judge James Dolan, the former First Dorchester District Court jurist who authored the Pioneer Institute study, minimizes the power Finneran delegated to Dortch-Okara. "What they did in fact is say, ‘We are in a fiscal crisis. We’re going to give you the ability to do that. We’re attaching strings, and we’re putting a very short sunset clause on that.’" In short, what the Speaker gave the judge does not amount to much.