With his harangues against the “Mexican judge” — the crackpot claim that an American of Mexican ancestry cannot be fair in presiding over the Trump University lawsuits — Donald J. Trump has created a whole new category of insult. And not only to the judge, but to the judicial system.

Given the reaction, it's possible he has finally committed an offense that might stick. And not only because of its inherent bigotry, but because of something a lot of Americans understand and, still hold sacred: the independence of the judiciary, and the need to keep two-bit politics out of civil and criminal proceedings.

In his ravings, Trump argues that U.S. District Judge Gonzalo Curiel should recuse himself from presiding over Trump University lawsuits because of Curiel's Mexican heritage and because Trump wants Mexico to build a wall to keep Mexicans from crossing the U.S. border illegally.

In other words: Trump is now considered one of the nation's leading haters of Hispanics, so how can a judge whose parents emigrated from Mexico possibly be fair and impartial to Trump's defense of the lawsuits?

If Trump were not the Republican Party's presumptive nominee for president, we'd dismiss him as a talk-show ranter and quickly change channels. But he's running for an office that includes the power to appoint judges, and his rants against Curiel betray a pathetic lack of understanding of the independence of the judiciary.

They also play to those who believe that government is too big and too powerful or, conversely, too big and incompetent. The nation is infested with cynicism and heated rhetoric about government, and here's Trump adding another branch — the judicial — to the fire.

Most Americans are capable of more discernment than that. They understand, at civics-class level, the separation of powers and the need to keep politics out of courtrooms.

It might not be possible, but it is certainly a worthy ideal.

Readers know I find the mixture of politics and criminal justice abhorrent, and I cited as one of the most flagrant examples Gov. Martin O'Malley's refusal to approve parole for dozens of inmates who had been recommended for release by the Maryland Parole Commission. This was part of O'Malley's calculation to eventually present himself as a centrist Democrat as he set out to run for president.

In one case, O'Malley also refused to respond to a substantive claim of innocence by a Baltimore man, Mark Farley Grant, who had been serving a life sentence since the age of 15. Though O'Malley ultimately paroled Grant, he rejected 57 other lifers who had been approved for release. As governor, he never acted on Grant's claim of innocence either.

Such political calculations were intended to preserve O'Malley's reputation as a tough-on-crime Democrat from his time as a Baltimore City Council member and mayor. As gifted as he was as a political strategist, O'Malley did not foresee the nation's awakening to the profound flaws in criminal justice: a futile war on drugs, mass incarceration, high unemployment among ex-offenders, a toxic relationship between police and minority communities. As a result, O'Malley took considerable heat for Baltimore's woes in the midst of last spring's civil unrest, and his long-anticipated run for the White House went nowhere.

Which brings us to Marilyn J. Mosby, the Baltimore state's attorney, and the allegation that her prosecution of police officers in the arrest and death of Freddie Gray was pure politics — either self-aggrandizing, meant to quell unrest, or both.

The outcome of the next trial — that of Officer Caesar R. Goodson Jr., the driver of the police van in which Gray suffered fatal spinal injuries — will tell us whether Mosby and her staff have any case against the officers at all.

Goodson, who faces the most serious charge of second-degree depraved-heart murder, is accused of driving the van in a manner that caused Gray to suffer a mortal injury and failing to respond to his distress.

If the state can't get a conviction against him, it's hard to imagine any convictions coming out of this case at all.

Late last year, Keri Borzilleri, a former assistant state's attorney, sued Mosby, alleging that she had fired her for political reasons: Borzilleri had supported her boss, incumbent State's Attorney Gregg Bernstein, in the 2014 primary election. Mosby defeated Bernstein and, after taking office, cleaned house.

As a result, the city lost the services of Borzilleri, with 10 years' experience, and several other prosecutors — nearly a quarter of the assistant state's attorneys in all, some of whom were in the middle of trials.

Last week, a federal judge dismissed the lawsuit, which I'm sure Mosby took as affirmation. But, in the meantime, violence continues to scar the city — shootings and homicides almost at last year's rate, and last year was terrible — and Baltimoreans have a right to ask whether politics in the chief prosecutor's office is part of the problem.

drodricks@baltsun.com