Just before 4:15 Thursday afternoon, Donald Trump’s voice could be heard, crackling, from outside the thick door. Manhattan Criminal Court Room 1530.
“I want to campaign,” Trump told TV cameras set up in the hallway.
He and his entourage entered the courtroom and took their places at the defense table and in the two rows of gallery benches at the back.
The prosecutor has entered. A few minutes later, Judge Juan Merchan arrived.
Merchan said he brought both sides into the room because he wanted to excuse the jury at 4:30 p.m., which is when New York courts typically close for business. He wanted everyone present to end the day’s proceedings.
“We’ll give you a few more minutes, and then we apologize,” Merchan said.
Merchan then left for the robing room, saying he would be back soon.
While the jurors hearing the trial in room 1530 are deliberating, the outside world is usually informed that the jurors have questions, notes, or verdicts, when the ancient bell rings. The fact that the court officer in the courtroom was suddenly startled by a sound, like an apartment doorbell plus a bell.
That voice was heard twice on Wednesday afternoon, when jurors asked for testimony to be read and the judge’s instructions.
Thursday began with Merchan re-reading part of his plea. Two court reporters then carried out testimony for the jury – one in a flat monotone and thick New York accent, the other animatedly read her lines – playing the part of David Pecker and Michael Cohen, among others. Then the jury of seven men and five women came back to discuss.
The rest of the day was filled with radio silence. No bells, no notes.
But they work, deliberating, reaching consensus.
It appears that when the jurors were told they would be acquitted, they said they weren’t ready.
As 4:30 came and went, back in the courtroom, the lawyers and defendants were distracted by the noise.
Where is the judge? And what about the jury?
The defendant has a tight schedule. He is not only a former president, but the Republican candidate who is being considered for the presidency again. Communications director Steven Cheung and other assistants are in the second row of the gallery. His son Eric sat in the first row, next to Alina Habba, a spokeswoman for Trump’s legal efforts.
At 4:36, the judge entered.
“Sorry about the delay,” Merchan said. “We received the note. It was signed by the foreperson of the jury at 4:20. It was marked as Court Exhibit Number 7.”
The note included an announcement, followed by a polite request:
‘We, the jury, have a verdict. We would like an additional 30 minutes to fill out the form. Is that possible?”
Imagine the sound of dozens of losers, and catch your breath.
Court room decor requires quiet. So a silent frenzy ensued.
Prosecutors whispered, Trump’s team rustled and tapped the phone. Dozens of journalists’ keyboards clapped. Some grumbled about the poor room wi-fi. The courtroom clerk admonished the grumbler.
Trump’s attitude changed.
He appeared jovial, chatting with attorney Todd Blanche before news of the verdict. After the announcement, he sat as he did in many hearings, motionless, slightly slumped in his chair, facing directly.
Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg, who had just attended the trial, came to watch the outcome of the most scrutinized and historic case ever.
Every seat in the courtroom was taken. It was standing room only, and the only ones standing were court officials. He walks the hallways and perimeters, keeping silent and patrolling for his cell phone, the truest enemy of a quiet courtroom.
Minutes pass slowly, quietly, as one of the most powerful people in the world awaits his fate.
Just after 5 pm Merchan returned. He read back the jury’s notes into the tape.
“Are we ready to bring in the jury?” Merchant asked.
“Yes, Judge,” said prosecutor Joshua Steinglass, who exactly two days before 5 p.m. was halfway through his marathon closing arguments that kept the courtroom open until late afternoon.
“Yes,” said Trump’s attorney Todd Blanche.
“Enter the jury, please,” said Merchan.
5:04 pm: Through a side door, the six alternate jurors enter and are given front row seats in the gallery. He participated in the trial earnestly for several weeks, taking notes so that Merchan, who was numerous, praised him for the seriousness with which he took his work, even knowing that he would not weigh in on the final decision.
5:05 pm: “Everyone wake up,” the court official bellowed. Trump stood, hands at his sides.
None of the jurors looked at Trump during his past filing; many of them had their eyes on the ground. Throughout the trial, as jurors came and went, they stared, but rarely met. This time he focused straight ahead.
They all sat down and Merchan recited the note again.
In New York, the first juror to be seated is automatically the foreperson. He sat in silence for weeks, but the time was near. The eyes of judgment, and the attention of the world, will turn to people.
“Mr. Foreperson,” said Merchan, his voice visibly wavering, “without telling you the verdict, has the jury reached a verdict?”
“Yes,” he said.
Eric Trump can be seen momentarily shaking his head.
“Get the verdict, please,” Merchan said to the court clerk, who asked the foreman to come up.
He stood, leaning his left arm on the banister while his right hand held the microphone.
“How do you say in the first count of the indictment, charging Donald J. Trump with the crime of falsifying business records in the first degree, guilty or not guilty?” asked the clerk.
“Guilty.”
“How do you count two?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count three?”
“Guilty.”
Trump’s eyes appeared to be closed, and his head shook slightly, his lips pursed and his eyes downcast.
Each count corresponds to different checks, invoices or vouchers forged at Trump’s behest, to cover up a conspiracy to influence the 2016 election by illegal means. So after the third count, it’s hard to imagine one of the 31 still “not guilty.” Instead, he had to sit and listen.
“How do you count four?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count five?”
“Guilty.”
“How did you count six?”
“Guilty.”
“How did you count seven?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count eight?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count to nine?”
“Guilty.”
“How can you count to 10?”
“Guilty.”
While the foreman read, some of the jurors kept their eyes closed.
“How do you count 11?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 12?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 13?”
“Guilty.”
“How did you score 14?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 15?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 16?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 17?”
“Guilty.”
“How did you score 18?”
“Guilty.”
“How did you manage to score 19?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count to 20?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 21?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 22?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 23?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 24?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 25?”
“Guilty.”
“How did you score 26?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 27?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 28?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 29?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 30?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 31?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you count 32?”
“Guilty.”
“How did you score 33?”
“Guilty.”
“How did you score 34?”
“Guilty.”
One of the important moments in the defense case is about the question of information witness Michael Cohen can be sent in one-and-a-half minutes. Could Cohen have told Trump’s bodyguards about the teenager who had invited him, and then updated Trump on negotiations to buy the adult movie star’s silence about the alleged sexual relationship?
The defense said, no. Prosecutors went so far as to demonstrate during closing arguments a hypothetical phone call where the information was sent in under a minute.
At 5:08 pm The jurors have filed in, passed Trump, the judge, Bragg and others, crossed the courtroom and taken their assigned seats. The former has said the judge, and ended a 34-count call and repeat.
All in just three minutes.
He has condemned Donald John Trump. The 45th President of the United States is now a criminal.
His body remained motionless, but the corners of his lips twitched.
Blanche asked for the jurors to be polled. Each confirmed they agree with the verdict.
Merchan thanked the jurors, noting that the trial began with jury selection on April 15.
“It’s been a long time. For a long time you’re away from work, family, other responsibilities. But, not only that, you’re doing a very stressful and difficult job,” said Merchan.
“I want you to know that I am very pleased with your dedication and hard work. I am watching you. As I said before, I watched you during the trial, and I could see how involved you were, your involvement. how invested you were in this process and you give it the attention it deserves,” said Merchan. “I want to thank you for that.”
The lawyer on the prosecutor’s side of the room nodded in agreement. Trump still seems to be barely moving.
All rose again when the jurors excused themselves. Again, no one saw Trump, and Trump didn’t.
Blanche immediately asked Merchan to set aside the verdict and enter a free trial. The motion was denied.
The judge set a penalty hearing for July 11. He then left.
Trump and his entourage stood up to leave, parabolic lips meeting the edge of their chins. He took a few steps, gently holding his son’s hand for a moment. He turned and slowly walked towards the back door of the room.
The trial is over. The prosecutors are packing their suitcases and bags.
From inside the courtroom, the indistinct but familiar voice of the perennial presidential candidate can be heard, back on the campaign trail, decrying his treatment.