SALT LAKE CITY — Several people answering a new criminal charge in Salt Lake City’s 3rd District Court found themselves before not one but two judges on a recent Friday.

It wasn’t a nightmare, and they weren’t seeing double.

The uncommon sight is now more frequent as judges from Utah’s juvenile justice system sit in to learn the ropes of adult judicial processes, one of several moves to relieve pressure on the Beehive State’s busiest courthouses.

Across the state, the criminal caseload has ticked up in recent years, from about 37,500 cases filed in 2014 to more than 43,700 last year.

From her perch on the right side of the bench, Presiding Juvenile Judge Renee Jimenez jotted notes on a yellow legal pad as one defendant after the next stepped up to a podium to face allegations from drug distribution to assault.

Third District Judge Paul Parker assigned further court dates and appointed public defenders, then discussed bail with attorneys and ordered warrants for those who didn’t show up. A dog napped on a gallery bench as his owner reviewed his finances with the judge. Another woman approached on crutches.

Jimenez declined when Parker suggested she handle a few of the cases.

She hadn’t brought her robe, she confessed, just a black sweater.

“This is definitely new and big and fast and furious,” Jimenez said after the session. “I feel like we’ve been prepped enough, but really, learning is doing.”

In Utah’s separate juvenile system, Jimenez and her colleagues handle mainly youth delinquency and child welfare cases, often in a more collaborative atmosphere. Utah law directs them to favor a child’s well-being and rehabilitative needs over penalties, but to also keep in mind public safety and accountability for youngsters.

Although a different realm, juvenile court is not considered the minor league for judges. It requires the same level of legal expertise and the pay scale is equal.

“In terms of being a judge and making decisions on the bench, the juvenile judges are every bit as qualified as a district court judge to do that,” said James Bauer, the 3rd District juvenile trial court executive.

Jimenez agreed.

“I had somebody once say, ‘Oh, that’s a cushy job.’ But people don’t realize that when you’re making decisions like that every day, hundreds of decisions a day or a week, that it does have a big impact,” she said.

Nevertheless, Jimenez and her colleagues are also happy to try on a new hat: “It’s a new thing. It’s always nice to have some something new come your way.”

Next year, they will preside over an adult’s first court date and decide whether to sign paperwork granting short-term protective orders in Utah’s 3rd District Court, which includes Salt Lake, Summit and Tooele counties. The initial hearings are largely administrative and person rarely enters a plea or is sentenced.

“Our state judges are very much pitch-in kinds of judges who simply want the best for the judiciary and the best for the people of Utah to move cases along in the most effective way,” said Paul Cassell, a legal expert at the University of Utah and a former judge.

The change frees up about two dozen judges in the 3rd District to focus elsewhere.

“Maybe that’s part of an effort to improve access to justice, by reducing the workload of some of the district court judges so they have more time to attend to some of these things,” Cassell said. “It wouldn’t necessarily foreshadow some radical transformation of either the juvenile court jurisdiction or the district court jurisdiction.”

Utah courts have taken other measures, too.

As a growing number of people facing civil matters like evictions and debt collections have chosen to forgo attorney fees and represent themselves, a new paralegal program allows those without a law license to represent them, and to advocate for others in such cases as stalking and divorce.

Juvenile judges in Utah’s rural courthouses have long shared in the criminal caseload, helping out with bench trials and domestic violence cases, for example. But the teamwork has been rarer in the state’s urban northern corridor.

It’s a move to recalibrate as Jimenez and her colleagues are freed up by recent reforms to Utah’s juvenile justice system.

A 2017 Utah law more than halved the share of kids and teens that end up in court. Most facing allegations like truancy and marijuana possession now enter into agreements with probation officers and don’t ever see a judge.

“We were super, super busy before, and now we’re busy,” Jimenez said. “But we’re using some of that time that we used to have on the lower level cases to do this as an exchange.”

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2019 data indicates there are too many juvenile judges in some districts. Yet Jimenez and Bauer said it’s not certain whether that trend will stay, and they don’t want to permanently rearrange the workload just yet.

In the Salt Lake City courtroom, Jimenez took notes about bond agencies’ role and whispered a question to Parker about why he ordered a defendant to appear before a particular judge.

When she begins making those decisions next month, she expects to consider how best to balance public safety, accountability and compassion, much like she has for children.

“You want people to not lose their jobs because they’re in jail, you don’t want people to lose their housing, but you also have to look at the charge and why they’re there, and whether or not that’s really workable,” Jimenez said. “You have to be able to make that quick determination.”

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