I was in the courtroom when Donald Trump was convicted. Here’s what you didn’t see.

The description I stick with when people ask me what it was like to see Donald Trump in court every day for seven weeks is that it was like seeing a cartoon character come to life.

I was in the courtroom almost every day of the trial, chronicling the proceedings on HuffPost’s live blog from my place on the unforgiving wooden benches that resembled church pews.

Security protocols in the courthouse meant that journalists were not allowed near the former president: we had to remain seated while he moved between rooms so as not to bump into him in the corridor, and the aisle seats of the public gallery were blocked to prevent his presence. put more distance between him and the people sitting there. He was certainly not an ordinary accused.

So, when he strolled down the aisle, the journalists observed him attentively. The man most Americans have only seen on their television and phone screens walks slightly hunched, his arms usually dangling, his face usually steely — though he occasionally finds someone in the gallery to distinguish him with a salute or a glare. (He was particularly happy to one day see Fox News pundit Jeanine Pirro, a staunch ally, on the court. He was particularly unhappy with MSNBC’s Lawrence O’Donnell.)

The day of his verdict, Trump left all red. His face, already in such a unique tone, darkened.

The case centered on whether he falsified business records related to a scheme to reimburse his former fixer, Michael Cohen, for a secret payment to porn actor Stormy Daniels, which Cohen made just before the presidential election of 2016.

Everyone in the courtroom felt the whiplash just after 4:30 p.m., when New York Supreme Court Justice Juan Merchan announced that the jury had made up its mind and just needed a little more time to complete his verdict. A few minutes earlier, he had brought all the parties together to say that he was going to dismiss the jury for the day.

At the word “verdict,” there was a gasp. Merchan, in his soft voice, told the courtroom to refrain from making outbursts.

The jury returned and the president stood up. The courtroom held its collective breath.

A court officer went through the list, asking for the jury’s verdict on counts 1, 2, 3, etc.

“Guilty. Guilty. Guilty,” were the responses that came in rapid succession, the juror’s tone signaling that he was not going to suddenly change his tone. Thirty-four “guilty” in all. A historic verdict.

For the media, however, there was added drama: All day long, the courthouse’s Wi-Fi barely worked. The walls of the 1941 building are so thick that they make it more difficult to connect to 5G hotspots. But by a natural disaster, the connection held when the president read the verdict, before he failed again. Tensions between journalists and New York state court officers flared when some tried to use their phones, which are not allowed to be visible.

As we sat there – in shock – Merchan praised the jurors for their service and told them he would thank them all individually later, in private. He rejected a motion by Trump lawyer Todd Blanche to overturn the verdict, siding with prosecutors who said there was ample evidence to convict the defendant in the case. He set a date for the sentencing hearing: July 11.

And soon we were chased out of the courthouse by court officials, who had the unfortunate task of joining us throughout the trial while remaining standing the whole time.

The journalists, sardined in the elevators, seemed somewhat stunned. More than one person said “wow”.

Across the street, a circus had materialized, with lights, cameras, microphones, and a jumble of cords and cables stretching the length of the block, while helicopters flew overhead. the street. In the park opposite the courthouse, the spectacle attracted curious people, who recorded the scene with their phones. Several protesters carrying handmade anti-Trump signs seemed delighted to learn that the leading Republican presidential candidate was now a convicted felon.

The intense interest in the trial also gave me pause. Merchan had told jurors they were now free to talk about the case with anyone they wanted, including the media. I doubted anyone wanted that kind of attention. But I don’t know the jurors. Throughout the proceedings, they remained a somewhat inscrutable presence in their dressing room. All 12, with six alternates, focused on the evidence presented for them. They took notes – a replacement filled the equivalent of three notebooks – and studied their screens when exhibits appeared on them. They didn’t look at Trump when they came to deliver their verdict.

The judge ordered the media not to reveal too many identifying details of the jury, for their safety. But the curiosity about them – people who were chosen for their apparent lack of fervent opinion towards such a controversial figure – is understandable. Many of them said they enjoyed outdoor pastimes and avoided the news or mainly read headlines.

Each day, the jury left the courthouse in a van with dark tinted windows.

The safety of the judge was another matter. Trump has a special ability to criticize someone and allow his strongest supporters to translate his words into actual threats, and he is now focusing his anger on Merchan.

On Friday morning, Trump called him a “devil.”

“He seems so nice and gentle.” People say, “Oh, he seems like such a nice man.” “No, unless you’ve seen him in action,” he said of the judge, during a news conference called by the former president to complain about the trial.

Trump remains under silence, which apparently prevents him from making negative comments about the numbers in the case while awaiting sentencing, although he repeatedly crosses the line and sometimes exceeds it. I can’t help but wonder what he will say once the leash is removed.

It’s been an exhausting and crazy adventure to help write, as they say, the first draft of the story. But I will be back at the courthouse in July.

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