Mar. 30—I miss the days when government bigwigs didn't claim to be "transparent," a word so overworked it's meaningless.

In an earlier era, a public employee's suspension from office was handled more honestly than it is today. A mayor, a governor or the head of a public department would at least tell us if the employee was suspended with or without pay.

These days, government workers can use state law as a way to strangle that sort of essential information.

The case of Dev Atma Khalsa is a good example. A first-year judge in Santa Fe Magistrate Court, Khalsa has not worked since shortly after his arrest Feb. 26 on suspicion of drunken driving.

Chief District Judge Bryan Biedscheid removed Khalsa from the bench. Biedscheid's decisive action ranks as the only good response by state government in regard to Khalsa.

Biedscheid decided Khalsa cannot hear any cases, and Khalsa cannot be in the courthouse. Those were wise decisions.

In a state where drunken driving is a chronic crime, Khalsa doesn't have the public's trust. He can't sit in judgment of other defendants.

Khalsa's removal from his job led me to ask the most basic of followup questions: Is he still being paid his annual salary of $116,230 while his own criminal case drags through Santa Fe Municipal Court?

Biedscheid told me he didn't know the answer. He should have, but payroll wasn't the chief judge's concern. Biedscheid devoted his attention to keeping the Magistrate Court running by assigning a judge from Los Alamos to help with what would have been Khalsa's caseload.

Even before speaking with Biedscheid, I had filed a request for Khalsa's payroll records with the state Administrative Office of the Courts. It was simple enough, covering all of one sentence.

A formulaic response arrived from Marina Sisneros, whose title is judicial specialist supervisor. "We need additional time to respond to your request and will do so on or before 04/06/2023," Sisneros wrote in an email.

Twenty or 30 years ago, someone on high simply would have told me whether a judge accused of wrongdoing was being paid during a suspension. A tedious and time-consuming process has replaced timely answers.

Agencies often use the state public records law to stall and wear down inquisitors. Government executives and their subordinates routinely claim they need more time to turn over a police report, a chain of emails involving the public's business, or even something as straightforward as whether a judge is being paid not to work.

Delays and diversions have become common. Yet every government, from the tiniest town hall to the statehouse, claims to be transparent.

Only the exceptional government employee defies the practice of turning each request for public records into a drawn-out, adversarial process.

Zach Shandler was one of the good ones. When Shandler was an assistant city attorney for Santa Fe, he avoided bureaucracy to better serve the public.

I once asked him about a city investigation of a restaurant owner suspected of wage theft. "The records are public. You can have them," Shandler said.

Just like that, he turned over documents. A lesser lawyer would have held back the records for a month on specious claims about the need for a redaction process.

As for Khalsa, he became a judge only three months ago. It should have been a two-minute task for a custodian of public records to supply a document showing whether he remains on the state payroll.

Stalemated by bureaucracy, I asked Khalsa if he is still being paid. He did not respond, and I was not surprised.

Khalsa rapidly turned himself into an unpopular judge. His reputation won't improve if it turns out he's on paid suspension, taking money from the public while helping to prepare his criminal defense.

Khalsa's conduct since his arrest has done nothing to inspire confidence. He pleaded not guilty to the criminal charges but also apologized for his actions. Innocent people don't send mixed messages.

More important, good judges don't act like Khalsa. He should resign from the bench so the Magistrate Court can be restored to full capacity.

If Khalsa has been paid for the month he hasn't worked, he's one lucky fellow. The ordinary New Mexican who's fired after holding a job for 10 years wouldn't receive a severance check that large.

As a lawyer, Khalsa can hang out his shingle after a petty misdemeanor conviction for drunken driving. But a judge in New Mexico cannot survive a guilty verdict, and Khalsa knows it.

After only two months on the bench, he should do the honorable thing. He should bench himself for good.

Ringside Seat is an opinion column about people, politics and news. Contact Milan Simonich at msimonich@sfnewmexican.com or 505-986-3080.