Just before a quarter past four on Thursday afternoon, Donald Trump's voice could be heard muffled from behind the thick doors of Room 1530 of the Manhattan Criminal Court.
“I want to campaign,” Trump told the TV cameras in the hallway.
He and his entourage entered the courtroom and took their seats at the defense table and on two rows of gallery benches behind it.
Prosecutors had already signed on. A few minutes later, Judge Juan Merchan arrived.
Merchan said he brought the two sides into the room because he planned to excuse the jury at 4:30 p.m., the usual closing time in New York courts. He wanted everyone present to finish the day's work.
“We'll give them a few more minutes and then we'll excuse them,” Merchan said.
Merchan then left for the locker room and said 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is deliberating, the outside world is usually informed that the jurors have a question, a note or a verdict when an outdated bell rings. The bailiff-enforced silence of the courtroom is suddenly shocked by the sound, like the buzzer of an apartment door combined with a tinny bell.
That sound sounded twice Wednesday afternoon, when jurors asked to read the testimony and the judge's instructions.
Thursday began with Merchan re-reading his part of their request. Two court reporters then conducted the testimony for the jury – one with a flat, monotone and thick New York accent, the other animatedly reading her lines – in the roles of David Pecker and Michael Cohen, among others. The jury, consisting 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 worked, deliberated and reached a consensus.
It seems that when the jury was told they would be excused soon, they said they weren't quite ready to go yet.
When it was half past four and back in the courtroom, the lawyers and the defendant started moving with casual annoyance.
Where is the judge? And what about the jury?
The suspect had a tight schedule. Not only is he a former president, but also the presumptive Republican nominee for president. His communications director Steven Cheung and other aides sat in the second row of the gallery. His son Eric sat in the front row, next to Alina Habba, a spokesperson for Trump's legal efforts.
The judge entered at 4:36 p.m.
“I apologize for the delay,” Merchan said. 'We received a note. It was signed by the chairman of the jury at 4.20 pm. It is marked as Court Exhibit Number 7.”
The note contained an announcement, followed by a very polite request:
'We, the jury, have a verdict. We would like an extra 30 minutes to complete the forms. Will that be possible?”
Imagine the sound of dozens of people losing their breath and quickly catching their breath again.
Courtroom decorum requires quiet. So a muted madness ensued.
Prosecutors whispered, Trump's team rustled and tapped phones. Dozens of reporters' keyboards rattled. Some grumbled about the poor WiFi in the room. Courtroom officers warned the grumblers.
Trump's behavior changed.
He seemed jovial and chatted with attorney Todd Blanche before news of the verdict broke. After the announcement, he sat as he had done for much of the test: motionless, slightly slumped in his chair, with his face straight ahead.
Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg, who attended the trial only occasionally, arrived to review the outcome of perhaps the most scrutinized and historic case he will ever preside over.
Every seat in the courtroom was occupied. It was standing room only, and the only people standing were court officials. They walked the aisle and surrounding area, maintaining the uneasy silence and patrolling for cell phones, the biggest enemy of a quiet courtroom.
The minutes passed slowly and silently as one of the most powerful people in the world awaited his fate.
Just after 5 p.m., Merchan returned. He reread the jury report in the report.
“Are we ready to bring out the jury?” Merchan asked.
“Yes, judge,” said prosecutor Joshua Steinglass, who at 5 p.m. exactly two days earlier was only halfway through a marathon closing argument that kept the courtroom open well into the evening.
“Yes,” said Trump attorney Todd Blanche.
“Bring out the jury, please,” Merchan said.
5:04 p.m.: Six alternate jurors entered through a side door and were given front row seats in the gallery. They dutifully attended the trial for weeks, taking so many notes that Merchan complimented them on how seriously they took their jobs, even though they knew they might not be involved in the final decision.
5:05 p.m.: “Everyone stand up,” a court official shouted. Trump stood with his arms at his sides.
None of the jurors looked at Trump as they walked past; many had their eyes on the ground. Throughout the trial, as the jurors came and went, he stared at them, but they rarely looked at him. This time he focused straight ahead.
Everyone sat down and Merchan retold the note.
In New York, the first juror is automatically the foreman. He sat quietly for weeks, but his moment was approaching. The eyes of the court and the attention of the world were about to turn on him.
“Mr. Foreperson,” Merchan said, his voice seeming to waver slightly, “without telling me the verdict, did the jury actually reach a verdict?”
“Yes, they have,” he said.
Eric Trump could be seen shaking his head slightly.
“Please record the verdict,” Merchan told the clerk, who asked the foreman to stand.
He stood up and leaned his left arm on a railing while his right hand held a microphone.
“What are your thoughts on the first count of the indictment, which charges Donald J. Trump with the crime of falsifying corporate records in the first degree, guilty or not guilty?” the clerk asked.
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count two?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to the count of three?”
“Guilty.”
Trump's eyes seemed to close and his head shook slightly, his lips pursed and his eyes downcast.
Each count corresponds to a different check, invoice or voucher forged at Trump's behest to cover up a conspiracy to unlawfully influence the 2016 election. So after the third count it was hard to imagine that any of the remaining 31 were 'not guilty'. Still, he had to sit and listen.
“How do you say to count four?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count five?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count six?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count seven?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count eight?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count nine?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say you have to count to 10?”
“Guilty.”
As the foreman read, some of the jurors kept their eyes downcast.
“How do you say to count 11?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count twelve?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 13?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 14?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 15?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 16?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 17?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 18?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 19?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count twenty?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 21?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 22?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 23?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 24?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 25?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 26?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 27?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 28?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 29?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 30?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 31?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 32?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 33?”
“Guilty.”
“How do you say to count 34?”
“Guilty.”
One of the key moments in the defense's case revolved around the question of how much information there was witness Michael Cohen could have been conveyed in a minute and a half phone call. Could Cohen have told Trump's bodyguard about a teenager who had called him as a joke, then informed Trump of the negotiations to buy an adult film star's silence about an alleged sexual encounter?
The defense said no. One prosecutor even went so far as to demonstrate a hypothetical phone call during closing arguments, conveying that information in less than a minute.
It's 5:08 PM. The jurors had entered, walked past Trump, the judge, Bragg and others, crossed the court and sat in their assigned seats. The foreman had addressed the judge and made and repeated a 34-count call.
And all in just three minutes.
They had condemned Donald John Trump. The 45th President of the United States was now a criminal.
His body remained motionless, but his lips dropped.
Blanche asked to question the jurors. They all confirmed that they agreed with the verdict.
Merchan thanked the jurors and said the trial began April 15 with jury selection.
“That's a long time. That's a long time that you were away from your job, your family and your other responsibilities. But not only that, you were doing a very stressful and difficult job,” Merchan said.
“I want you to know that I really admire your dedication and your hard work. I've been observing you. As I said before, I observed you during the process, and I could see how involved you were, how involved you were. how invested you were in this process and you gave this issue the attention it deserved,” Merchan said. “I want to thank you for that.”
The lawyers on the plaintiffs' side nodded in agreement. Trump still seemed to barely move.
Everyone stood back up as the judges were excused. Again, no one was looking at Trump, and Trump was looking at no one.
Blanche immediately asked Merchan to annul the verdict and pass a verdict 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, his lips forming a parabola that touched the sides of his chin. He took a few steps and gently took his son's hand. He turned and slowly walked towards the back doors of the room.
The trial was over. The prosecutors were packing their suitcases and bags.
From the courtroom came the muffled but familiar voice of a perennial presidential candidate, back on the campaign trail, decrying his treatment.
