Ogden Valley City has officially incorporated at a pivotal moment for northern Utah, just as growth pressures tied to the 2034 Winter Olympics begin to accelerate. Voters also delivered an unexpected mayoral outcome, setting the tone for how the new city will approach land use, local control, and the work of building a government from the ground up.

Three months after a political killing in Utah stunned the nation, the shock has faded but the consequences have not. What followed was not collective reflection, but open celebration from ideological extremes — a moment that revealed how far American discourse has collapsed. Political violence was no longer universally condemned; it was filtered, justified, or dismissed depending on who held the microphone.

Utah’s response exposed a deeper problem. Debate is no longer merely contentious — it is increasingly managed. Platforms that once claimed neutrality now decide which ideas are amplified, which are buried, and which voices quietly disappear. The result is a public square shaped less by truth than by permission.

Over the past year, Utah has become an uncomfortable mirror for the nation. When institutions resist scrutiny, media abandons skepticism, and questioning power comes at a cost, democratic norms do not erode all at once — they fracture slowly, until silence feels safer than speech.

Something has gone wrong with our health. Each generation appears sicker than the one before, despite spending more on medicine than any society in history. At the same time, trust in once-authoritative sources of health guidance has eroded as pharmaceutical advertising increasingly blurs the line between reporting and recommendation. This piece examines how lifestyle, food, and institutional incentives reshaped our understanding of health—and why reclaiming it may require more courage than another prescription.

Has this “soft-on-crime” approach resulted in safer streets?

SALT LAKE CITY — A decade has passed since former Utah Governor Gary Herbert signed a massive justice reform bill into law in hopes that the state could reduce its prison population and manage low-level offenders through rehabilitation programs instead of incarceration. Has this reinvestment resulted in lower crime and recidivism rates?

According to the Utah Department of Corrections, that landmark Justice Reinvestment Initiative aimed to “continue holding offenders accountable and securing our communities, but in a way that considers individual risks and treatment needs.”

Are communities really safer when mental health and substance use needs are addressed through programs administered outside prison walls? The idea was to treat criminals differently based on their mental health needs and backgrounds. But at least one retired Adult Probation and Parole Officer, believes this “soft-on-crime” approach hasn’t resulted in safer streets.

LOOKING BACK

State Senator Todd Weiler, in that legislative role since 2012, helped drive the passage of the Justice Reinvestment Initiative (JRI), a massive bill that enjoyed broad-based approval among state officials and the Legislature as a whole.

In November 2014, Weiler attended the national summit on the issue in San Diego, an event hosted by Pew Charitable Trusts. 

“I was very involved in it. We had a lot of high hopes,” Weiler, a Woods Cross Republican, said in a recent interview. “That was about the time we were finalizing plans for the new prison. And we actually said that because of JRI we don’t need as many beds because we’ll be incarcerating fewer people. So that new prison was designed with this idea.”

A key part of JRI dealt with adjusting sentencing for crimes related to addiction, dividing offenders into two basic groups: dangerous criminals who are a threat to society (that group goes to prison), and low-level offenders who get help kicking addictions through state-sponsored programs or private-sector rehabilitation.

“The ultimate goal was if we have an otherwise good person who got caught up in an addiction, and as a result committed crimes, they need to be punished for their crimes,” Weiler said. “It’s not that we’re going to overlook what they did, but we wanted to focus primarily on helping them overcome their addiction and [that means] getting them back to their job and their family.” 

Before JRI, low-level drug offenders with felonies would spend years in prison, which wreaked havoc with their lives and future prospects. Addressing the root cause of their theft and property crimes through supervision and treatment made sense. 

“We’re all imperfect people,” Weiler said. “So we want people working their jobs, paying their bills and raising their kids rather than sitting in jail and watching TV or playing cards.”