Reporters and news assistants in the Washington bureau have developed a series of tactics to manage the trial’s demands.
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Wednesday marks another day of court in the financial fraud trial of Paul Manafort, President Trump’s former campaign chairman — and another day when reporters will swarm the square in front of the federal courthouse in Alexandria, Va.
As news assistants in The New York Times’s Washington bureau, Emily Baumgaertner and I have developed a sort of mini-guidebook to help Sharon LaFraniere, the investigative reporter leading our trial coverage, juggle the technology restrictions of the courtroom with the demands of the daily news cycle outside its walls.
Here are some of our helpful hints for navigating the sidelines of the first trial in the special counsel Robert S. Mueller III’s investigation.
Before you go: The Albert V. Bryan United States Courthouse doesn’t allow personal technology into its midst — and, unlike other courthouses, doesn’t offer lockers in which to store forbidden devices.
For that reason, your first stop will be the cafe next door to the courthouse. For about $6 — unless you’ve got more than a phone and a laptop, you won’t make the credit card minimum — the owners will rubberband your technology together, number it and hold it underneath the counter. In return, you’ll get a small slip of paper the size of your pinkie, with a number handwritten on it in marker. (Even the security guards will point you toward this cafe if they spot an errant smartphone or Apple watch.)
The courthouse itself is easy to find: Look for the dozen or so cameras pointed directly at the doorway, in hopes of catching Mr. Manafort, a prosecutor or a witness arriving or leaving.
Join the line of interns, lineholders, reporters and eager spectators that will snake its way from outside through the metal detector and up to the ninth floor. Bring a book for the downtime — Twitter is no longer there to entertain you.
And bringing in outside food or water is questionable, at best. If a cellphone is bad, do you really think they’ll let in your blueberry muffin?
Once inside: The ninth-floor courtroom where Mr. Manafort’s trial is being held is hard to miss: looming wooden doors, often with a stray bystander or reporter lurking outside. If the courtroom is full, there’s an overflow room a few floors down where you can watch and listen.
(When the courtroom doors open, respect the line. Don’t be that person who barrels into the courtroom in front of the 20 people who have been there since 6:30 a.m.)
Good seats are at a premium, especially on a day like Monday, when Rick Gates, the government’s star witness, was testifying. Together, you cram into the benches, elbow to elbow with complete strangers, who may shush you for rustling papers. Others may offer you a piece of candy in sympathy.
Sharon often sits closer to the front of the courtroom, with a good view of the screens where the prosecution projects document evidence for the jury (and the audience) to see.
Sometimes, we’ll sit next to her, the best way to softly confer in the courtroom and get a sense of what’s needed from us. Other times, we aim for the comfy chairs on either side of the door or the benches nearby — so we can make a speedy exit.
If you have to run: If there is breaking news — for example, a prosecutor’s remark that the government’s star witness may or may not testify — you must run. (But not within sight of the judge, who does not tolerate disruption, or the courtroom deputies, who have no problem ordering the disobedient out.)
Either Sharon will hand us paragraphs, scribbled on yellow lined paper, to dictate to an editor over the phone or we’ll supplement the breaking news update with details about what happened and direct quotes.
Despite the helpful tutorial from our older colleagues on how to use a pay phone (which the courthouse does have!), the two phones don’t always work. Don’t waste time. Instead, take the elevator to the third floor, then hit the stairs and beat the elevator to street level.
(Judge T. S. Ellis III, who is overseeing the case, compared the exodus of reporters at the outbreak of news last week to “rats leaving a sinking ship.”)
Once outside, run across the street to the cafe — don’t get hit by a car — and ask for your phone.
In our case, one of us will send short messages and updates to editors in the Washington bureau. Cash will exchange hands, we’ll run back across the street and slip back into the courtroom. And, given the extraordinary interest in the testimony of Mr. Gates, Mr. Manafort’s right-hand man, a larger team, including the correspondents Kenneth Vogel and Adam Goldman, will bring dispatches out to editors while Noah Weiland, another Washington news assistant, guards our technology and belongings in a hotel lobby and helps relay messages and updates to save time in filing.
As Sharon writes the lede-all for the day, the process will repeat again and again — until the day, and the story, is done.
