As the trial of Baltimore Mayor Sheila Dixon drew to a close last week, Judge Dennis M. Sweeney descended from his courtroom dais and spoke to jurors at their own level, rather than from on high.

His positioning for the reading of jury instructions was one of many subtle courtesies Sweeney has extended to the nine women and three men on the jury throughout the high-profile theft trial now in its final stages.

Sweeney's rapport with the group of Baltimore residents is critical during tense deliberations that have already spanned 11 hours over two days, legal professionals say.

Jurors are to resume their discussions Monday morning to decide whether the mayor is guilty of stealing gift cards intended for needy families, and at this phase, the judge is "like a coach," said Federal Magistrate Judge Paul W. Grimm.

"It's as if your team is at halftime, and you need to give them a pep talk," Grimm said. "You don't want them to let their guard down and give up, but you don't want to get them wound up too tight, either."

Sweeney, 64, is a retired Howard County judge who was selected in February to preside over the four cases stemming from State Prosecutor Robert A. Rohrbaugh's City Hall corruption probe. Sweeney is widely known in Maryland as a jury expert, teaching new judges how to manage trials and writing an occasional column called "Judge on Juries" for a local legal publication.

Most who know Sweeney note his dry sense of humor and jovial manner. Often, he's been called upon to roast colleagues at retirement parties. Those traits will come in handy, colleagues say, as deliberations in the Dixon case wear on.

Sweeney has seemed protective of the jurors throughout the proceedings.

In an early ruling, he barred sketch artists during jury selection. He's had lunch delivered for them during deliberations. At one point, he allowed a courtroom clerk to bake chocolate-chip cookies for the panel, asking members to return a unanimous verdict on their tastiness.

When jurors asked to go home for the week because deliberations had become "overheated" on Friday, he told them to "do something nice" over the weekend and put the case out of their minds.

Sweeney, Grimm and others say, is "the perfect choice" to shepherd a jury through deliberations in such a high-profile case.

Former colleagues have praised Sweeney's courtroom management abilities, but some lawyers who watched closing arguments on Thursday said he should have worked harder to rein in the crowd that chuckled at lead defense attorney Arnold M. Weiner's jokes and then applauded at the conclusion of his remarks. Afterward, Sweeney banged his gavel and called the outburst "inappropriate."

Sweeney also did not enforce an order prohibiting the use of cell phones inside the courtroom until late in the proceedings.

He declined to be interviewed because of the continuing trial.

A Kentucky native and Georgetown Law School graduate, Sweeney was a legal aid attorney and worked in the state attorney general's office for years before becoming a judge.

Since his 2007 retirement from regular trial duties, he has wrangled with some of the state's most complex court issues. Earlier this year, he oversaw a Court of Special Appeals hearing in a murder case that focused on a trial judge's handling of jury notes.

Stephen H. Sachs, a former Maryland attorney general who hired Sweeney in the 1970s, said the young lawyer was part of a team created to make the office into something more than "mere barristers."

Sweeney undertook an investigation into deplorable conditions at the Maryland Penitentiary in Baltimore and took on the task of professionalizing administrative hearings at state agencies, which until then had been "chaotic."

"It does not exaggerate to say that Dennis Sweeney changed the face of Maryland justice for the better," Sachs said.