Shortly before 4:15 Thursday afternoon, Donald Trump's voice could be heard, muffled, from beyond the thick doors of Manhattan Criminal Court Room 1530.
“I want to campaign,” Trump told television cameras in the hallway.
He and his entourage entered the courtroom and took their places at the defense table and in two rows of benches in the gallery behind.
The prosecutors had already presented themselves. Judge Juan Merchan arrived a few minutes later.
Merchan said he brought both sides into the courtroom because he intended to excuse the jury at 4:30 p.m., the usual closing time for New York courts. He wanted everyone present to finish the events of the day.
“We'll give them a few more minutes and then we'll apologize,” Merchan said.
Merchan then left for the cloak room, saying he would be back soon.
When a jury that has heard a trial in room 1530 is deliberating, the outside world is usually informed that the jurors have a question, a note or a verdict, when an old-fashioned bell rings. jolted by the noise, like an apartment doorbell ringing along with a doorbell.
That noise sounded twice Wednesday afternoon, when jurors called for a reading of testimony and instructions from the judge.
Thursday began with Merchan rereading his part of his petition. Two court reporters then played the testimony for the jury, one in a monotone, thick New York accent, the other animatedly reading his lines, playing the roles of David Pecker and Michael Cohen, among others. The jury of seven men and five women then deliberated again.
The rest of the day was filled with radio silence. No bells, no notes.
But they were working, deliberating, reaching a consensus.
It seems that when the jury were told they would soon be excused, they said they weren't quite ready to go.
As 4:30 rolled around, back in the courtroom, the lawyers and the defendant shuffled in casual annoyance.
where is the judge And how about the jury?
The defendant had a tight schedule. Not only is he a former president, but the presumptive Republican presidential nominee. His communications director Steven Cheung and other aides were in the second row of the gallery. His son Eric sat in the front row, next to Alina Habba, a spokeswoman for Trump's legal effort.
At 4:36 the judge entered.
“I apologize for the delay,” Merchan said. “We received a note. It was signed by the jury foreman at 4:20. It's marked court exhibit #7.”
The note included an announcement, followed by a very polite request:
“We, the jury, have a verdict. We would like another 30 minutes to fill out the forms. Will that be possible?”
Imagine the sound of dozens of people losing, and quickly catching, their breath.
Courtroom decorum demands silence. So a silent frenzy ensued.
Prosecutors hissed, Trump's team hissed and the phones tapped. Dozens of reporters' keyboards beeped. Some complained about the room's poor wireless connection. The courtroom officers admonished the murmurers.
Trump's demeanor changed.
He had appeared jovial, chatting with attorney Todd Blanche before news of the verdict. After the announcement, he sat as he had for much of the trial, motionless, slightly slumped in his seat, staring straight ahead.
Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg, who attended the trial only intermittently, arrived to see the outcome of perhaps the most scrutinized and historic case he will ever preside over.
All the seats in the hall were occupied. It was standing room only, and the only people standing were bailiffs. They roamed the corridor and perimeter, maintaining an uneasy silence and patrolling for cell phones, the real enemy of a quiet courtroom.
The minutes passed slowly, in silence, as one of the most powerful people in the world awaited his fate.
Shortly after 5 p.m., Merchan returned. He read the jury's note back into the record.
“Are we ready to remove the jury?” Merchan asked.
“Yes, judge,” said prosecutor Joshua Steinglass, who exactly two days earlier at 5 p.m. was only halfway through a marathon closing argument that kept the courtroom open late into the night.
“Yes,” said Trump's attorney, Todd Blanche.
“Bring out the jury, please,” Merchan said.
5:04 p.m.: Through a side door, six alternate jurors entered and were given front-row seats in the gallery. They dutifully attended the trial for weeks, taking notes so copious that Merchan congratulated them on how seriously they had taken their work, even though they knew they might not get to weigh in on the final decision.
5:05 p.m.: “Everybody stand up,” bellowed a bailiff. Trump stood up, arms at his sides.
None of the jurors looked at Trump as they walked by; many had their eyes on the ground. Throughout the trial, as the jurors came and went, they were looked at, but seldom met their gaze. This time he focused directly.
Everyone sat down and Merchan explained the note once more.
In New York, the first juror seated is automatically the foreman. He sat in silence for weeks, but his time was coming. The eyes of the court and the attention of the world were about to turn to him.
“Mr. Chief,” Merchan said, his voice seeming to waver slightly, “without telling me the verdict, has the jury in fact reached a verdict?”
“Yes, they have,” he said.
Eric Trump could be seen shaking his head briefly.
“Take the verdict, please,” said Merchan to the court clerk, who asked the foreman to stand.
He stood up straight, resting his left arm on a railing while his right hand held a microphone.
“How about 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 say you count two?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to three?”
“Guilty”.
Trump's eyes seemed to close and his head shook slightly, his lips puckered and his eyes downcast.
Each count relates to a different check, bill or money order forged at Trump's behest, to cover up a conspiracy to influence the 2016 election by illegal means. So after the third count, it was hard to imagine any of the remaining 31 being “not guilty.” Still, he had to sit and listen.
“How do you say you count four?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to five?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count six?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count seven?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to eight?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count nine?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to 10?”
“Guilty”.
As the foreman read, some of the jurors kept their eyes downcast.
“How do you say you count to 11?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to 12?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to 13?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count 14?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to 15?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count 16?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count 17?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count 18?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to 19?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to 20?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count 21?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count 22?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to 23?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count 24?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count 25?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to 26?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count 27?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to 28?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to 29?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to 30?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to 31?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to 32?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count to 33?”
“Guilty”.
“How do you say you count 34?”
“Guilty”.
One of the key moments in the defense case revolved around questioning how much information witness Michael Cohen could have conveyed in a minute and a half phone call. Cohen may have told Trump's bodyguard about a teenager prank calling him, then updated Trump on negotiations to buy an adult movie star's silence about an alleged encounter sexual?
The defense said, no way. A prosecutor went so far as to demonstrate during closing arguments a hypothetical phone call where this information is transmitted in less than a minute.
It's 5:08 p.m. The jurors had entered, walked past Trump, the judge, Bragg and others, across the courtroom and into their assigned seats. The foreman had gone to the judge and made a 34-count call and repeated.
All in just three minutes.
They had condemned Donald John Trump. The 45th President of the United States was now a felon.
His body remained still, but the corners of his lips sank.
Blanche asked that the jurors be polled. Each confirmed they agreed with the verdict.
Merchan thanked the jurors and explained that the trial began with jury selection on April 15.
“That's a long time. That's a long time you were away from your work, your families, your other responsibilities. But, not only that, you were engaged in a very stressful and difficult task,” Merchan said.
“I want you to know that I really admire your dedication and your hard work. I watched you. Like I said before, I watched you during the trial, and I could see how involved you were, how committed you were. how invested you were in this process and you gave this matter the attention it deserved,” Merchan said. “I want to thank you for that.”
The lawyers on the prosecutors' side of the courtroom nodded. Trump still seemed to barely move.
They all rose again when the jurors were excused. Again, nobody looked at Trump, and Trump didn't look at anyone.
Blanche immediately asked Merchan to set aside the verdict and enter a judgment of acquittal. The motion was denied.
The judge set a sentencing hearing for July 11. Then he left.
Trump and his entourage stood to leave, their lips like a parable meeting the sides of their chins. He took a few steps, gently holding his son's hand for a moment. He turned and walked slowly towards the back doors of the room.
The trial was over. The prosecutors were packing their briefcases and bags.
From the courtroom, the muffled but familiar voice of a perennial presidential candidate, back on the campaign trail, could be heard denouncing his treatment.
