Yesterday, I visited the Trump trial in Manhattan. As I waited in line to gain admittance into the building, I saw a man walking his dog near the few chanting Trump supporters.
One supporter had a large flag with a message that seemed to urge Trump to finish the wall. A woman who was blowing leaves paused to watch them. She later came over to our lines and moved us around like a pro in order to blow leaves from around our feet —there weren’t hardly any, but she was on a mission I think to be a part of it all. By the way, the Trump supporters number from four to ten people, at most.
Suddenly a man in a spiffy suit ran by with an American flag, holding his coffee. He disappeared after a few moments.
While in line, I spotted a few celeb journalists: Maggie Haberman of the NY Times and Ari Melber from MSNBC (did not draw him, sadly).
While we waited, a policeman came by and gave us each colored cards with a date stamped on it. Those of us who were in the regular media line got green cards, those few in the “secure” media line got yellow. I tried not to feel inferior.
At the time, I had no idea what that meant, however. I learned soon that I was to be in the spillover room, and not the primary courtroom where the trial would be conducted. We were to keep those cards with us at all time, carrying them with us when we went into the hallway (yes, the infamous hallway where we see Trump give his tirades) to the rest rooms during breaks. The cops called them “hall passes.” Momentarily I felt like I was back in high school.
We were ushered into a courtroom, and I did some drawings from where I sat.
These were the police assigned to our room. They were friendly, but kept their eyes on us all the time, wandering the room repeatedly.
Some of my fellow media, typing away.
The spilloff (spillover?) room had a large monitor, so we got a view of the action that way. It was split screen: trump and his lawyers at the bottom, the judge on the upper left and the witness on the upper right. In the elevator woman later told me that being in the courtroom where it all happened was not as good as the spillover room, plus they “ask you to promise them your first born child,” she laughed. Later, I saw her on CNN as an expert.
And I saw the main actors in action. Trump and his lawyer liked to whisper.
I couldn’t tell if he fell asleep, but he closed his eyes a lot.
When Judge Merchan spoke for the first time, I was surprised to hear his voice. It was soft, gentle and a bit high for a man’s voice.
Most of the day was spent with this witness, Keith Davidson.
All in all, it was for me a fascinating experience. I love this kind of thing- drama, journalists, news, unexpected moments. The courtroom I was in was grungy, as was the bathroom. Everyone was so nice and it felt a little like a wierd community. People—cops and journalists— greeted each other as if they had become friends, returning each day. I may return on Friday, getting there at 6:30 in hopes of getting into the courtroom. I do wish I could draw in the hallway, particularly the group of cameramen and one woman who are there when Trump does his thing. Maybe they’ll let me, no harm in asking, I guess.
Thanks for being here. The New Yorker did not want my drawings from the trial, so I am grateful to be able to share them with you.
Thanks for being here, see you tomorrow!
These visuals of the experience are wonderful.
Your variety of drawings gave me a better feel for what it was like to be there, as opposed to just the regular drawings of the courtroom.