One year ago today, the most senior judge in the country, Chief Justice John Roberts of the U.S. Supreme Court, uttered an extraordinarily obvious statement. "Judges are not politicians," he announced in the case Williams-Yulee v. The Florida Bar, "even when they come to the bench by way of the ballot."

To most Americans, the chief justice's words were, and still are, no-brainers. Gavels, black robes, low-lit chambers lined with law books, these make not the things of common politics. Judges aren't politicians, in many ways, and for many good reasons.

Yet in three-quarters of the United States, this statement made news. State court judges – the kind of judges that hear everything from divorce cases to death penalty appeals – do run for office and do appear on the ballot in 38 states. Still, this very American practice (only Bolivia and Japan follow suit) didn't really matter much. Until recently.

About 15 years ago, judicial elections started to change. As voters became more aware of state court decisions, whether on same-sex marriage, public education or the environment, those with political agendas and the money to promote them started to take notice as well, and began to spend more and more money to see that when they had their day in court, they'd win.

If this formula hasn't paid off, big spenders haven't noticed. In 2013-14, over 90 percent of state supreme court elections were won by the candidate who raised the most money. Just like candidates for president or Congress, judges now are almost required to launch a campaign, make stump speeches and solicit money from donors.

Chief Justice Roberts restored some common sense. In the Williams-Yulee case, a Florida woman running for county judge had asked for campaign donations through an online posting. In Florida, candidates for judge are prohibited by state law from asking for donations, be it face-to-face, over the phone or through an online post. The woman running for judge, Lanell Williams-Yulee, filed a lawsuit challenging the law and argued that Florida's ban on "personal solicitations" violated her First Amendment right to free speech.

Roberts disagreed. Quoting "The Federalist Papers," he highlighted the unique role of our courts, writing that unlike the other two branches of government, the judiciary has "no influence over either the sword or the purse," and that instead, its legitimacy "depends in large measure on the public's willingness to respect and follow its decisions." Florida's ban, because it promoted public confidence in the integrity of the judiciary, would stand.

The decision, coming from the most senior judge in the nation, was extraordinary. For one, it was only the second time the chief justice had joined his four colleagues appointed by Democrats in a pivotal 5-4 vote. (The first was his 2012 opinion upholding the Affordable Care Act.)

But more importantly, the decision was the second consecutive victory for the courts. In 2009, the high court was asked to decide if a West Virginia coal baron's spending on a judicial election – while a $50 million case involving his company, Massey Energy, was on its way up to the West Virginia high court – violated his opponent in court's right to a fair trial. The court drew a line in the sand and held that the election spending had created a "risk of actual bias" in the candidate-turned-judge that violated his opponent's right to a fair trial. (Just this month, the coal baron, Don Blankenship, was given the maximum punishment allowable by law for willfully violating mine safety standards.)

Opportunities to build upon these back-to-back victories are on the horizon. An eerily similar case substituting a tobacco giant for Blankenship has been offered up to the Supreme Court, should it choose to hear it. Behind it, a case involving trial attorneys who gave 72 times the maximum campaign contribution allowed by law to a Louisiana super PAC may make its way to the court.