01:00 AM EST on Tuesday, January 4, 2005

THE DARK DOINGS of June 2004 may come to haunt Rhode Island for a long time. It was then that the legislature cut the governor out of budget decisions affecting the judiciary -- letting Chief Justice Frank Williams grab power he had long sought.

Thanks to the legislature, Judge Williams could now do hiring and purchasing, and set salaries, without second-guessing from the governor.

The legislature did not, of course, do this through an open process -- that would have risked public scrutiny and public uproar. It did so by attaching the measure to the state budget -- the now-notorious Article 47 -- and ramming it home in the chaotic final days of the session.

The change never did pass the judiciary committees, although it had been heard in past years. At committee hearings, the public is allowed to raise questions and objections, and scrutinize how their representative or senator voted. No such hearing on the power grab took place in last year's session.

One important question that might have been raised is: Is such a change even constitutional? It does not seem to be. Under the constitution, the governor must submit a unified budget, which includes the judicial branch.

Another question: Does cutting the governor out of the budget -- removing one of the public's protections against legislative and judicial collusion -- create too close and cozy a relationship between judges and legislators?

Is it healthy for legislators -- some of whom work for law firms whose members appear before the courts -- to exclusively set the budgetary parameters for judges' compensation and working conditions? Can judges who strike budget deals with legislators render impartial decisions on constitutional matters that profoundly affect legislators? Does a direct track between judges and legislators -- cutting out the executive branch -- contribute to justice, and the perception of justice, in Rhode Island?

There was no time to ask those questions, or obtain answers. Frank Williams got what he wanted, and the public got shoved aside.

Twelve days later, we now know, the judiciary hired Stephen Montalbano, the 19-year-old son of Senate President Joseph Montalbano, for a state job, over 49 other applicants. What message did the chief justice send with that hiring?

And now, the judiciary's friends in legislative leadership want to nullify an election in Rhode Island, by pretending that the voters did not mean it when they passed the separation-of-powers reform by a margin of 78-to-22 percent on Nov. 2.

House Speaker William Murphy and President Montalbano have signaled their intention to ignore the plain meaning of the amendment passed by the vast majority of voters -- that legislators must remove themselves from executive functions -- so that they can preserve the power and patronage afforded them by running the state's gambling operations and coastal development.

The question of whether the voters have any power in Rhode Island -- or whether Messrs. Murphy and Montalbano may dictatorially brush them aside -- may well be decided by . . . Frank Williams and his colleagues. Has Judge Williams's conduct during the last several months, in defending the power grab and climbing into a political bed with legislative leaders, encouraged citizens to have faith that justice will be served?

I don't believe so. If the chief justice truly wished to enhance Rhode Islanders' faith in, and respect for, their courts -- a noble endeavor, and something that has been his stated aim since he was raised to that high position of trust -- the power grab of last June was surely a grotesque miscalculation. How could such an approach possibly reflect well on him and his judiciary?

It was highly encouraging that, even after that stunt, the Supreme Court stood up for the First Amendment in a case involving an attack on a constitutent's free-speech rights by Sen. Stephen Alves (D.-West Warwick), chairman of the Senate Finance Committee. But that case attracted much attention, and could hardly have been decided otherwise.

What happens when the vast power of the legislature -- real jobs, real money, real influence -- is on the line? We may find out.

Mr. Williams has made a national name for himself as an expert on Abraham Lincoln, and that great man's aura surely lends an appealing glow to the judge. But the test of greatness is more than wearing a stovepipe hat.

When I dared raise some of these questions last year, Judge Williams had his mouthpiece, Dyana Koelsch (whose 35-hour-a-week position pays $88,668 a year courtesy of the taxpayers, including me), attack my integrity as a journalist and label me a "Chicken Little." That's a sample of how the judiciary now comports itself, and part of the price one must pay for loving our free institutions and writing about what goes on in Rhode Island.

Edward Achorn is The Journal's deputy editorial-pages editor. His e-mail address is eachorn [at] projo.com.