In recent weeks, the scene outside the criminal courthouse in Downtown Manhattan where former President Donald Trump was standing trial was one of relatively orderly anticipation.
Beginning early each morning, a crowd — made up mainly of journalists and Trump supporters dressed to the nines in MAGA regalia — would begin to form outside the building, everyone settling in to await news of what was going on inside.
The N.Y.P.D. had a sizable presence on the scene and had set up barricades around the courthouse entrance. But such precautions were hardly necessary.
I made several visits to the courthouse over the past two weeks, and for such a divisive and historic trial, I was surprised by how calm the mood was.
On a few occasions, I saw Trump supporters lob insults at journalists, mostly with yells of “Fake news!”, but even this was pretty rare. Mostly, there was just a lot of waiting around. Some people brought folding chairs, bottles of water, packed lunches. All in all, it was more picnic than protest.
But then, shortly after 5 p.m. on Thursday afternoon, the long-awaited verdict came down, pronouncing Mr. Trump guilty on 34 counts, and the scene shifted noticeably. Throngs of onlookers began crowding the courthouse, spilling into the small park across the street. The energy grew decidedly more excited.
Not one, but two people dressed in Trump masks and orange jumpsuits appeared and began riling up the crowd. A small group formed around them, hooting and hollering and lobbing mocking insults at the pair of presidents. “Lock him up!”
Mr. Trump’s supporters were a presence as well. Dressed in bright colors and waving enormous flags and signs, they voiced their outrage at the verdict, fists in the air.
At one point, I witnessed a moment of tension between the two groups: Someone carrying a sign that read “Trans people are good people” appeared to get into a verbal altercation with a man in a red MAGA hat. Voices were raised, and the man, appearing angry, made a move toward the sign holder. But the moment passed quickly, each party slipping back into the crowd.
As afternoon faded to evening, the park slowly emptied out. By 8 p.m., only a few reporters lingered. The day’s long drama was finally complete. It was just another beautiful spring night in New York City.
