5:00 p.m. PT

"Justice is done. The man's innocent. He always was."— Lead defense attorney Thomas Mesereau Jr.

This pithy comment was recently posted on Jackson's official website (pictured), mjjsource.com. The King of Pop has yet to issue an official statement. —Lisa Sweetingham

4:55 p.m.

The obligatory special-edition local newspaper is out. "Not guilty on all counts" screams a free version of the Santa Maria Times — surely copies are available on eBay by now. I hand my copy to Savannah Guthrie for her to show on air. Afterwards, Telemundo asks me to borrow it for their liveshot and then it gets handed to a local NBC reporter for another close-up. How much is it worth now? I wonder. —Bryan Lavietes

4:20 p.m.

The vans pull away. The bookers dissipate. The deputies shake hands and say their good-byes. Some will go to their regular posts in Santa Barbara, Solvang and elsewhere.

And the last word goes to the newspaper reporter who saunters off, flings a hand in the air and declares on the post-verdict punditry sure to follow: "Let the second-guessing begin!" —Lisa Sweetingham

4:16 p.m.

The alternates leave first — they came in their own vehicles — and walk toward the parking lot. They look nonplussed. They're followed, but not hunted down the way one might expect with this rowdy, but clearly tired bunch. The jury panel comes out two minutes later, with Juror No. 7 in the lead. They are carrying their lunch bags, thermoses and the notebooks they will refer to 90 days from now when they deliver their memoirs. There are reports that bookers have already sent flowers to the homes of their favored "get" jurors. —Lisa Sweetingham

4:12 p.m.

The side doors to the white vans are opened, and camera crews and TV show bookers await the panel with big smiles and business cards in hand. "Are you taking them straight up to the party at Neverland?" I ask one of the van drivers. He smirks. Another deputy tells me they had no post-verdict "incidents." But we are still waiting for the jury to exit...anything could happen. —Lisa Sweetingham

4:01 p.m.

Two white jury vans are backed up against the back door of the courthouse and the jurors are expected to finish their press conference any minute. —Lisa Sweetingham

3:35 p.m.

Michael Jackson's personal magician, Majestik the Magnificent, is in high spirits and chatting with MJ advocates. Majestik met MJ many years ago and has become a bit of a trickster sidekick. He tells me he's heading back to Neverland, or "the Ranch" as it's called in the inner circle, for a little post-verdict celebration later tonight. What do you think about the outcome, Majestik? He harangues me with, "I'll tell you what I've been saying all along: Tom Sneddon is an idiot, Diane..." I'll just say that he continues the same line of critique, naming two Court TV anchors whose prosecution-friendly stance hasn't earned them any love around here. —Lisa Sweetingham

3:08 p.m.

Despite a previous statement to the contrary, jurors now say they will give ten minutes to the press. Media pool coordinator Peter Shaplen reminds us that the jurors in the Scott Peterson trial made a similiar promise, only to defy the time limit and talk to reporters for 90 minutes. We're keeping our fingers crossed! —Lisa Sweetingham

2:53 p.m.

DA Tom Sneddon began his post-verdict press conference with a somber acknowledgement to his team of prosecutors and attorneys before taking questions from the ravenous media. Matt Fields of "Dateline" asked if Sneddon had spoken to the accuser's family yet, and the prosecutor responded with a terse negative reply. Was this the wrong family to base a case on? Sneddon was asked. "We don't select our victims," he answered. Might this superstar trial have a sequel? When Associated Press's Linda Deutsch asked if Sneddon's office had finished pursuing Michael Jackson, the final words rang: "No comment." —Bryan Lavietes

2:47 p.m.

Outside on fan row, the fans are giving interviews to a slew of cameras. There is jubilation and hugging, and bells and kazoos going off. Police have blocked off Miller Street adjacent to fan row, and I count at least 30 police officers standing in formation with billy clubs and helmets at their sides...just in case. —Lisa Sweetingham

2:36 p.m.

All four SUVs in Jackson's caravan leave the courthouse, but not before the lawyers see the singer and his entourage off with hugs all around. Speaking of Jackson's crew, despite his large family, the court only allocated six seats in the courtroom for his kin. They were filled by parents Katherine and Joe, brothers Randy and Tito and sisters Rebbie and LaToya. —Lisa Sweetingham

2:25 p.m.

Jurors start to exit the courtroom. Jackson rises and Judge Melville tells him, "Mr. Jackson, your bail is exonerated and you're released." The singer hugs his defense lawyers. —Lisa Sweetingham

2:20 p.m.

Guess we won't get any insight from jurors, at least not anytime soon. After the verdict is read, Judge Melville reads this note from the jury:

"We, the jury, feeling the weight of the world's eyes upon us all...thoroughly and meticulously studied the evidence. We confidently came to our verdict. We respectfully request the world allow us to return to our private lives as anonymously as we came." —Bryan Lavietes

2:13 p.m. PT: MICHAEL JACKSON ACQUITTED

The verdict is read: Jackson is found not guilty of all ten counts against him — conspiracy, child molestation and giving alcohol to a minor. MJ was virtually emotionless as the verdicts were read. Halfway through, he folded his hands in front of his face, as if to create a resting spot for his chin. The King of Pop is a free man. —Bryan Lavietes

2:10 p.m.

Judge Melville looks over the verdict forms. A separate form for each of the 10 counts is individually sealed, so the process is a time-consuming one. The jurors' eyes are fixed upon Melville as they await the reading of their verdict. —Court TV staff

2:02 p.m.

Courtroom doors locked, the jury files into the the jury box. Meanwhile, the crowd outside is hushed as they await the verdict. —Court TV staff

1:45 p.m.: Michael Jackson arrives at court.

The caravan is here. Jackson steps out of the car looking a bit shaky. He is accompanied by numerous family members, including father Joe Jackson and sister LaToya Jackson.—Lisa Sweetingham

1:41 p.m.

Word from the front is that MJ is minutes away. There is a quiet hush as the attorneys and fans wait for the caravan of black SUVs. A few errant fans cheer.—Lisa Sweetingham

1:36 p.m.

Nine minutes and counting until the verdict is announced — about 15 minutes later than previously scheduled, since Jackson has not yet arrived to court. Defense lawyer Thomas Mesereau emerges from the courthouse and stands outside, presumably in anticipation of his famous client's arrival.—Court TV staff

12:56 p.m.

The first adrenaline rush has passed and there's a little bit of calm in the overflow room, where I thumb-tap the 'berry in time with blogstar Lisa Sweetingham to my left. But I digress. This entry is about the mayhem outside the courthouse. Court TV's Stacey Kaspin has the unenviable task of covering the legions of Jackson fans in the hour before his fate is decided. She says the 100+ supporters are surprisingly calm. The street is blocked off, but a crowd of lookie-loos are gathering across Miller Avenue and photographing the madness as it unfolds. Meanwhile, word leaks into the overflow room that Jackson's convoy is driving on the 101 (pictured) on a course for HIStory. —Bryan Lavietes

12:54 p.m.

For those of us who couldn't snag a coveted courtroom seat, the press overflow room is the raucous stepchild, where reporters can talk freely and make verdict predictions with impunity. There are about 75 seats in here and more than 100 passes have been given out. Early predictions run the gamut, from acquittal to "two and two" — two molestation and two alcohol convictions. "If he's convicted, that means I get to stay in Santa Barbara," a reporter says, referring to the fact that MJ would likely be remanded if convicted and transferred to the county jail to await sentencing. "I got on this thing just for the chance to stay in Santa Barbara."—Lisa Sweetingham

12:37 p.m.

Just for formality's sake, since we run a classy blog around here, here is the official announcement from pool coordinator Peter Shaplen:

"The Superior Court in and for the County of Santa Barbara in the matter of the People vs. Michael Jackson has announced that the jury has returned a verdict.

"The verdict is expected to be announced in 1 (one) hour per the instruction of Judge Melville and the concurrence of all counsel.—Lisa Sweetingham

12:35 p.m.: Jury has reached a verdict.

Verdict! The court just announced the jury has reached a verdict, which will be announced 1:30 p.m. PT. —Bryan Lavietes

Ladies and gentleman, we have a verdict. The sheriff's deputies have lined the back parking lot with yellow caution tape, people are running with cell phones attached to their ears, I see Stacy Brown pass and catch him on the phone, saying "Bob?" presumably his co-author Bob Jones, and the fans are still and quiet. The verdict forms are being handed out now as a guide for us to follow when the verdict is read in approximately one hour. Stay tuned!—Lisa Sweetingham

12:05 p.m.

There are safe, splashy wading pools, and then there is the MJ press pool: A dangerous, carnivorous breed. And like piranhas in a feeding frenzy, they just descended upon the body of Peter Shaplen as he emerged from the courtroom with a stack of about 300 copies of a statement from the court. "Everybody back!" He fed the bloodthirsty information-mongers the following illuminating information: on Friday, there were four conferences held with attorneys and the judge. At 11:05 a.m., the jurors asked for readback of testimony and the request was accommodated. Today, at 10:25 a.m., the jurors submitted a question, but when the judge and attorneys assembled, the jury asked that the question be withdrawn. Still no news about what the question or readbacks were.—Lisa Sweetingham and Bryan Lavietes

11:55 a.m.

Lawyers Zonen, Mesereau and Sanger have finished a closed-door meeting in Judge Melville's chambers. A statement is going to be released in a few minutes. —Bryan Lavietes

10:23 a.m.

Pool coordinator Peter Shaplen (pictured) is interviewing with Court TV. At a commercial break, he gets a call informing him that the defense attorneys have arrived at court. We don't know why, but we have it first because we've got exclusive access to the pool's lifeguard at the moment. —Bryan Lavietes

9:45 a.m.

Najee Ali, the president of the MJ fan's Caravan of Love tour (and, as he recently put it to me, the self-proclaimed "Al Sharpton of the West"), holds an impromptu press conference on fan row. He's nearly drowned out by the chants of "Guilty!" from Bible thumpers. Police surround the area but keep a cool, measured distance. Ali tells the crowd what we already reported to you last week: That outspoken comments by the Rev. Jesse Jackson and Raymone Bain (pictured) to the press about MJ were not appreciated by Jackson's defense. Ali asks that no more advocates or leaders speak on MJ's behalf. Bain, incidentally, was fired last Friday by the Jackson camp and has since returned to Washington, DC. A source tells me that firing Bain and muzzling The Reverend is a well-meaning effort to get the media to focus on the facts in the case, and not what MJ is eating for breakfast. Okay, fine. But we'll miss Raymone's ice cream and back pain updates. —Lisa Sweetingham

9:38 a.m.

Media attorney Ted Boutrous is back for another round in Judge Melville's (pictured) courtroom. He has filed a memo asking for the release of all transcripts regarding jury questions and readbacks — all of which has been kept confidential thus far. "Cloaking this crucial final stage of the case in secrecy is intolerable and unconstitutional," Boutrous writes. Maybe so, but it hasn't stopped this court yet. —Bryan Lavietes

9:18 a.m.

The heckler of holy rollers is named Dino, a producer for the Tom Leykis Show. For the record, he is not wearing Ray Bans, but "$10 cheapo glasses" he's hoping will be knocked off his face before long. "There's a pool going to see if I can get punched out by a Jesus freak," Dino tells me. He wins half the kitty if he can raise fire and brimstone outta the guy. Everyone, let's welcome Dino, the newest clown to join the circus! —Lisa Sweetingham

8:53 a.m.

An angry man with a thick gray beard who holds a sign that reads, "The Shed blood of Jesus Christ — man's only salvation" is having a Def Jam-style show down with a fast-talking, Ray-Bans-wearing MJ fan in a Pat Tillman jersey. But wait! Though the Bible thumper is for real, the punk in the dark sunglasses isn't a fan at all. He's accompanied by a pretty blonde in pigtails and a pink cowboy hat who is sitting on top of a ladder with a poster that says, "Leykis Saves." Tom Leykis (pictured) is Los Angeles-based radio talk-show host with a flair for the irreverent. "C'mon, baby," the Leykis plant coos to her as he snaps her photo, "Jesus loves C cups!" The real MJ fans have been upstaged. "If I can just get Grizzly Adams to punch me," the guy jokes. "Hey! Want some Jesus juice?" —Lisa Sweetingham

8:49 a.m.

The Judge Melville "star chamber" has still not disclosed what the jurors want read back. What we do know is that today is day seven of deliberations and the circus is still in town.—Lisa Sweetingham

8:30 a.m.: Day seven of deliberations begins.

8:20 a.m.

The jurors are on the scene. The panel walked in single file — four wearing jeans, the rest khakis. They reportedly requested readbacks from testimony of Jackson's young accuser.—Bryan Lavietes and Stacy Kaspin

7:30 p.m. PT

I spy Stacy Brown at the Cliffs Resort lounge in Pismo Beach, so I corner him outside the bathroom to ask him about his new book, "Michael Jackson: The Man Behind the Mask." Brown, an MSNBC analyst, co-authored the tell-all with former MJ public relations chief Bob Jones and it's a litany of sexual dalliances Jones says he witnessed between MJ and his alleged cadre of catamites. Brown tells me he doesn't believe Jackson's current accuser, but he stands "100 percent" by the accounts of past sexual misconduct in the book. A Jackson family insider who is privy to their conversations told me recently that the family believes the book is "trash" and that "anything in that book that has any validity to it — and that doesn't mean it's true — was already revealed in the courtroom." Brown seems genuinely doleful when he affirms the book has caused a rift with the Jacksons, whom he once considered friends. He also boasts that sales have skyrocketed since he started making the rounds on shows like Court TV. "Seems like everybody's making a buck off Michael?" I ask him, meaning not just Brown and the press he courts, but the hoteliers who upped the nightly room rate a month into trial, the vendors on fan row selling loofahs and "MJ is Innocent" paraphernalia, the lady who owns the only cafe near court, which was recently redecorated and restaffed, and the county, which the AP reports has issued more than 600 citations for such crimes as jaywalking and excessive honking in front of the courthouse. Brown glances at me sideways, with an aw-shucks grin. "Yeah," he says, softly. "Yeah, I know what you mean." —Lisa Sweetingham

2:23 p.m. PT: Deliberations end for the day.

A snarky columnist with an infectious laugh walks up shortly after the vans drive away and asks in rapid-fire fashion: "Did the jury leave? What were they wearing? Were they happy or sad? Did any of them dance? Were they carrying pink boxes? Were they full or empty?" Fantastic. He makes a deputy laugh as we walk away. Let me be the first to report: There's nothing more here to report. —Lisa Sweetingham

1:45 p.m.

Media pool coordinator Peter Shaplen is our fearless leader. We flock to him like lemmings hoping for tidbits of information. Have the jurors asked any questions? "No." What kind of coffee are they drinking? "Regular coffee in a black carafe with a silver top." His bemused smile leads me to question if he is being serious or sarcastic. Watching the swirl of activity around him is a fascinating exercise in social behavior. If he is standing with a group of five or more, with walkie talkie in hand, invariably he gets bumrushed by a crowd hoping to pick up pieces of conversation, bits of news. A reporter offers him $50 to conduct my social experiment: Grab a talkie, run toward the courthouse with a group of deputies in tow and watch the press lose their minds! He gives a wry smile, sport that he is, and declines. —Lisa Sweetingham

1:00 p.m.

Taking bets on a verdict at a molestation trial might seem a crass game, but as one British tabloid reporter tells me, "We love a good bet." And who am I, writer of blogs about portable toilets, to judge? Splash News Agency has a pool going with about 20 of their American-based media crew. The lucky Brit who correctly picks the hour and day the verdict will be read by court clerk Lorna Frey is going to be $400 richer. "That's a lot of beer money," marvels a sandpaper-voiced snapper (that's paparazzi to us Yanks). —Lisa Sweetingham

12:45 p.m.

Activity around the courthouse complex seems heightened. Deputies are walking the parking lot peering at passersby, reporters are huddled about chattering about an alleged convoy of SUVs that were seen leaving Neverland, and Zeus, the bomb-sniffing German shepherd, is actually working, sniffing the tires of parked cars. Then... minutes later, rumors abound that the convoy is NOT headed to the courthouse, deputies and reporters are seen shooting the breeze and eating lunch, and Zeus and his owner are taking the briefest of breaks under a shady tree watching grade-schoolers playing softball in the field adjacent to the parking lot. What pageantry, what feats, what shows. —Lisa Sweetingham

11:45 a.m.

Rumors abound, but they don't mean anything. Unless they do. Has Jackson left Neverland? Apparently another network is reporting it, but maybe the cars are off for another washing. Meanwhile, here at the courthouse, Court TV's Stacey Kaspin just walked down "Satellite Row" and noted a stack of new barricades in the parking lot that have not yet been set up. But the buzz is none of it has anything to do with the "V"-word.—Bryan Lavietes

11:00 a.m.

Law-enforcement personnel just erected an additional barricade to block off car access from the front of the courthouse into the courthouse complex. Pedestrian traffic is still permitted, but authorities don't want cars rolling through with all the media and fans milling about. I spoke to one deputy who said he didn't know of any collisions thus far, but better safe than sorry.
—Bryan Lavietes

9:45 a.m.

Who cleans up after the 2,200 some-odd media peeps who have set upon the Santa Maria courthouse complex? In the back parking lot, we are blessed — or cursed, depending on who you ask — with nine portable outhouses, including a super-sized handicapped one to handle the needs of a press corps the size of Luxembourg. A lean man named Hector pulls up once a day in his squeaky-clean tanker truck. He wears a shy smile and MarBorg Industries uniform. Hector's truck is tan, the toilets are tan, his uniform is tan. Hector's huge extra-thick rubber gloves, which reach his knobby elbows, are industrial black. He grabs a bucket filled with water and disinfectant, dumps it into an empty outhouse, pulls a squeegee from his back pocket and disappears into the commode. As the door swings shut behind him, a man in sunglasses and a floppy safari hat exits from the neighboring outhouse. All's well that ends well. —Lisa Sweetingham

9:08 a.m.

"I own my body every day. Those are MY private parts!" Hooray! It's story time on fan row. "I am young and I have a big, loud voice! Children, you can say, 'Those are MY private parts!'" A woman with sandy-blond hair in sunglasses, jean skirt and baby tee decorated with baby chicks is holding up a children's book and reading to the cameras in a big, loud voice. Her story-time assistant holds a big yellow sign with the message: "We've had enough of child molestors." When she finishes her warm tale of caution and private-parts empowerment, the MJ fans behind her join in with their own chants of "Michael's innocent, Michael's innocent!" So she gets up on a ladder, chants "Guilty," and holds up a poster that reads, "No sex with kids." Steps away on the grass, an interloper quietly lounges in the sun with a "Neutral Observer!" sign. "Damn those neutral observers," a newspaper reporter jokes, "you never know where they stand."—Lisa Sweetingham

8:45 a.m.

How can you tell who's been here all week and who's air-dropped in, licking their lips for a potential Friday verdict story to report? A little something called the jury glow. It's that healthy, sun-kissed look you get after spending a week exposed to the hot sun in the courthouse parking lot. Even the deputies come in varying shades of newbie pale, sunblocked brown, and devil-may-care beet-red. A group of reporters are under the press pool tent now, slathering on SPF 70. —Lisa Sweetingham

8:30 a.m.: Day six of deliberations begins.

Welcome to day 71 of the Michael Jackson trial, where we present you with day six of deliberations. No red carpet here at the Santa Maria courthouse, but we do have the press and star-studded jury wardrobe watch every morning. Unfortunately, the white vans that whisk the panel in and out under the cover of tinted windows arrived a little earlier than usual today, and I just missed the gala. "Casual," "same as always" and "not TV clothes" are the early reviews from trial watchers who camped out ahead of hacks like me. Some jurors were reportedly carrying lunch bags and one had a pink pastry box. According to our media coordinator, the MC of the press circus, the jurors bring their own food every day. —Lisa Sweetingham