The jurors are done too. They'll resume deliberations in the morning.— Lisa Sweetingham

A day late and a dollar short for a jury viewing?

"No, no, no, no, no!" Polk tells the judge when informed there was not sufficient notice given for a site visit, nor do they have the security resources to put one together at the last minute. Polk, who asked for a site visit last week, says she also requested a visit when trial began. The court reporter is accused of conspiring with the biased judge.

"We're done," Judge Brady says. — Lisa Sweetingham

"Are you interrogating me?" Polk asks the judge. Polk claims that an officer's report that she asked to have marked as an exhibit never came in because the judge's clerk deceptively ignored her request.

"No, I want an answer," the judge says sternly. "Are you saying that this item was delivered to my staff and offered and asked to be marked and not marked?" Polk demurs. She wants to reopen her case to introduce the exhibit, essentially an officer's log noting who came on her property the night of the investigation. The jurors have other evidence with them noting who arrived at the scene and the cottage, but Polk believes this is clear suppression of evidence. The judge denies the request. — Lisa Sweetingham

The hearing begins. The judge says she had her research attorneys looking into a few issues Polk brought up this morning. The additional jury instructions Polk has requested are denied. There is no precedent to introduce new instructions, unless jurors come back asking for clarification. She also is not going to make them reassemble every morning and evening. "I object!" Polk says. "I think you're misusing the evidence code."— Lisa Sweetingham

Shhhhhh! Author and veteran journalist Carol Pogash and I have just been shushed by a woman sitting a table away in the courthouse law library. "Why don't you guys go to a coffee shop?" she says, as she peers at us down her eye glasses and flips pages of a tome on insurance litigation. "Because we're also working," Carol shoots back.

Pogash, or "Pogue," as her friends call her, lives in Orinda, the woodsy neighborhood where the Polks lived before Felix died there and Susan was sent to a Richmond, Calif., jail cell. Pogue has been a regular in court as she is working on her second book. Yes, it's about the Polks. Not just about Susan's murder trial, but also about their life together. And she has graciously accepted my request to make this an interactive blog! It's your turn, dear reader, to help Pogue in her quest to choose a title for the book. Any serious suggestions? Post them on a new thread at the Courttvnews.com message boards. No jokers, please.— Lisa Sweetingham

We will have a hearing at 4 p.m., presumably to discuss the unfinished biz from this morning. The trial watchers in the hallway are getting restless. Several pop into another courtroom next door to watch a carjacking trial. That doesn't satisfy. Even the clerk is sleeping. So they skulk back into the hallway. Others have taken up residence in the courtroom next door, where the capital murder trial of Robert Ward Frazier, the accused "Trailside Killer," is in full swing.— Lisa Sweetingham

Back up in the courthouse, the jurors are taking a break. "Ponytail," Juror No. 11, does not look happy. But he has had a pretty serious visage since last week. Ponytail has a new job to start on Monday in Southern California. He announced it a long time ago, when no one thought the trial would go into June.— Lisa Sweetingham

Gabe and Adam are troopers about being touched up with the make-up artist's powder brush. "This is a first," Adam says. The men are calm and articulate during their interview. Adam hits on an interesting point: He believes his mother's main reason for killing his dad was when she lost custody of Gabe. "My mother loves us unconditionally, and arguably we are most important things in her life," Adam (pictured with his mother) says. "Gabe really was her most important asset." Two weeks after Gabe started living and bonding with his father, Felix was dead.— Lisa Sweetingham

Polk's jury consultant, Karen Fleming-Ginn, tells me that Juror No. 2, our new foreperson, did indeed have a military background, but when asked said she did not think it would cause her to give any more credence to law enforcement because of it. Her husband volunteers as a diver for the sheriff's department, but mostly finds old cars — not bodies — in the water. She was selected toward the end of voir dire, Ginn says.— Lisa Sweetingham

Gabriel and Adam Polk are here with us at Crier Live's truck. The boys have decided it's time to talk after being silent for so long. Adam, who graduates from UCLA Sunday, finished a final paper last night before flying up. Gabriel will start his first year at UC Santa Barbara this fall. Marjorie and Dan Briner watch from the sidelines for support.— Lisa Sweetingham

The jury has begun deliberations again after lunch.— Lisa Sweetingham

We notice jurors heading back to the courthouse from lunch. They walk in small groups, some alone on their cellphones, some just walking alone. Alternate Juror No. 1 is spotted a few blocks away by herself. And the speculation begins! What is she doing here? Did someone clue her in that maybe a verdict was close? Is she psychic? — Lisa Sweetingham

I'm sitting at Legal Grounds, a lunch spot near the courthouse, with some media hacks. Prosecutor Paul Sequeira passes by with a venti-size Frappuccino with whipped cream. We stop him to needle him into spilling any scoops. He mentions that this morning he went straight from home to the courthouse, and when his wife called the DA's office, she became worried when they said he never got there. Did he get in a car accident? She checked the blog, Paul says, and told the office, "Oh, he's just at a hearing in the courtroom."

Sherry: Paul said to tell you he's stopping at Costco on the way home tonight to pick up water, Gatorade and other drinks. Sequeira has four kids. He buys in bulk.— Lisa Sweetingham

The jurors have gone to lunch.— Lisa Sweetingham

I'm looking at a list of the exhibits that were marked during trial. It's on legal paper, is 26 pages long and includes one-line descriptions of 662 exhibits. Not all of it came in as evidence. For instance, the book "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids," marked as "Defendant's exhibit T," is not in the deliberation room. Polk brought it out when she was questioning her son Gabe about his early family memories. Another item she questioned him about "Defendant's Exhibit U," a "#1 Best Mom Award" plaque. A photocopy of the plaque went in with the jury. When Gabe testified, he said the plaque "was Dad's idea."— Lisa Sweetingham

I have it from a very reliable source that the foreperson is Juror No. 2. She is someone who has a confident presence on the panel, has listened intently during trial, and is friendly with No. 1 to her left, the "smiley" CFO. We don't have jury questionnaires, so I am culling recollections from colleagues. One recalls she has a military background. Another said she gave Polk's medical expert Dr. John Cooper (pictured) a critical look during some of his testimony. She is blond and looks to be in her late 30s to early 40s, so on the younger side compared to many of the panelists. More details to come... — Lisa Sweetingham

Gotcha! It was just a "we want a break" buzz. Anyway, the hearing is over and Sequeira finally packs up the projector he affectionately named Elmo, and wheels "him" out of the courthouse.— Lisa Sweetingham

The jurors have a buzzer to alert the deputy when they have questions, needs — or a verdict. It goes off while we're in the hearing, and it's slightly startling. — Lisa Sweetingham

Polk also wants additional jury instructions read regarding self-defense and evidence of the decedent's prior acts of violence. She reads from her legal books. The judge says she will take the matter into consideration, but does not rule on it.— Lisa Sweetingham

The judge returns... No, the jurors are not being supervised, because they are not sequestered. No, the county does not have the budget to bring them in lunch every day. The judge is resistant to cutting in to their deliberation time just to tell them, "Good morning, go with the bailiff," and "Good evening, have a nice night." She does not think they need more admonishments not to discuss the case: "I think they have it tattooed on their brains," Judge Brady says. She does, however, consent to Polk's request for the twice-daily assembly before the court.— Lisa Sweetingham

A few "housekeeping matters" the judge wants to run by Polk and prosecutor Sequeira:

1. The media wants access to jurors after the verdict.
2. What's this about Polk not stipulating to letting the jury go straight into deliberations and leaving at end of the day without assembling before the court? Polk explains that she wants the jury to be admonished every morning and every night to not discuss the case outside of the jury room. She also wants to know if they are being supervised by a bailiff during their free lunch hour. And no, she doesn't mind if they want to talk to the press after the verdict.

The judge steps away to take an important phone call, giving me time to go out and use the 'Berry to feed the blog.— Lisa Sweetingham

Still arguing over the medical records, which describe Felix's schizophrenic reaction diagnosis in the late 1950s after a suicide attempt. The short of it is: Polk wants them in. The prosecutor says they're too remote. The judge will make a decision later.— Lisa Sweetingham

Polk is wearing grey chinos and a white long-sleeved T and carrying an accordion file. She smiles and greets Valerie Harris when she is led into the courtroom when the hearing begins. (The jurors, of course, are not present.) The judge announces she has three pages from Felix's naval medical records that were marked as defense exhibit No. 467. Out of the almost 700 pieces of evidence she ruled on, the judge said, we somehow skipped over this.— Lisa Sweetingham

We have been relegated to the hallway as we wait for the courtroom doors to open. A few local reporters and several trial watchers are here. Valerie Harris is also here as Polk's only support person. Polk's mother Helen (pictured) and her brother David were here on Monday and Tuesday, but they left after closing arguments back to their home in San Diego. Sources close to Polk confirm that she begged them to stay a few days longer to be here in case a verdict was reached. But to no avail. Apparently David said they had business to attend to back home, like taking the trash out and handling a banking transaction.— Lisa Sweetingham

The jurors did in fact have another request late yesterday. (Remember the deputy with the folded piece of paper?) The court will go on the record in about 30 minutes.— Lisa Sweetingham

The jurors have begun deliberating. They also have all the evidence with them now. The foreman, I'm told by reliable court personnel, is a woman. More details to come soon.— Lisa Sweetingham

Having coffee in a secured patio courtyard at the courthouse with a colleague when the jurors are escorted en masse by a deputy into the area. They have not begun deliberations yet for the day. Juror No. 8 lights up a morning cigarette. Others buy coffee. Juror No. 7, aka "The Cowboy," has been a spiffy dresser at trial, alternating from Western shirts to Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops. Today he wears a leather jacket and a black T-shirt with a red devil face.— Lisa Sweetingham

Outside the courtroom, a woman on the street walks up to the trial watchers and says, "Hey! Are you guys the gavel groupies?" They all laugh. Randy, the self-appointed court jester, muses, "Why, 'cause we look like a bunch of derelicts hanging out in front of the courthouse? Just put a bottle of beer in our hands and put us under a bridge somewhere?" The newcomer giggles, says she's "grrl" on the Courttvnews.com message boards and stays awhile. She has already been reading our new blog.— Lisa Sweetingham

The panelists are escorted out. The six women lead, with the six men following. The last juror, No. 11, smiles as he catches up as they all file out. He's got long dark hair, which he typically wears in a ponytail. Can you guess the fairly unimaginative nickname we have given him since the trial began? Yes. "Ponytail." The panel will continue deliberating at 8:30 a.m. tomorrow morning.— Lisa Sweetingham

A group of us are waiting in the hallway. A newspaper reporter amuses us with a beauty tip he picked up from his wife's magazines: A pivot-upper-body twist stance that slims your profile. He also shows us how he can appear to be levitating off the ground a few inches when he lifts up from the ball of his foot at a particular angle. "Susan can probably levitate," someone remarks. One of Polk's "predictions" that never made it into her testimony, but has been rumored talk among sources close to the defense, is that Polk also believes Felix had intimate knowledge or was somehow involved in the death of Princess Diana.— Lisa Sweetingham

This trial seems to be a mecca for conspiracy theorists. I have in my hands a press release and amicus curiae from a man who says he is an investigator against acts of child abuse. He says he is a friend of Peter Tscherneff, the man named in the brief who claims Felix Polk was part of a plot to kidnap a young girl named Amber Garcia-Swartz for a murder-porn scheme. A little research reveals there is a California girl by that name who disappeared in 1988 at age 7. The case remains unsolved, and there has been no evidence that Felix ever did the things alluded to in the document.

A trial watcher takes the document to a deputy, who questions the man about it. He is elderly and a little squirrelly, but seems harmless. He looks nervous and asks for a witness while the deputies question him. He gets on his cellphone and says he's calling his attorney. The deputies talk to him gently and ask him not to distribute materials inside the courthouse.— Lisa Sweetingham

By the end of their short break, the jurors are sitting at their private, designated benches situated in a circle in the hallway. They're smiling, they're all getting along, they seem to be playing nice together. A male juror, a CEO whom reporters have taken to calling "smiley," knocks on the door to the courtroom and signals they're ready to go back in.

No dissent or anger discernible on their faces at this early stage of the delibs.— Lisa Sweetingham

The jurors are given a mid-afternoon break and we all go into mute mode as they emerge and pass by in the hallway. The bailiff follows behind with a note in his hand. Possibly a new request? He folds it over.— Lisa Sweetingham

Hanging outside the courtroom with a handful of trial watchers. We are debating the demeaning undertones of the phrase "gavel groupies." "It sounds like we're a bunch of high schoolers. Who are we grouping over?" "Trial watchers" is preferred. It's been rumored that Gabriel, Polk's estranged son (pictured), is angry about the trial watchers' visit to the Polk house with the Today show, hosted by Valerie Harris, which we wrote about a couple weeks ago. The consensus seems to be empathy for the boys ("they're mourning, and that's their home"), and concern over the fact that Harris didn't get Polk's permission beforehand.— Lisa Sweetingham

The judge says we will have about an hour lead time between when the jury reaches a verdict and the decision is read in court. Prosecutor Sequeira packs up his files. "Mr. Sequeira, are you packing up Elmo?" the judge asks. Polk has refused to call the light table projector an "Elmo" during trial, and Sequeira has teased her about it when she asks to use his "projector." "Oh, you mean the Elmo?" Sequeira says. Kind of like when she kept correcting him during trial when he talked about the stabbing in the poolhouse. "It's a 'cottage,'" Polk would say, enunciating: "Cott-age."— Lisa Sweetingham

The jurors have indeed requested the aforementioned items. They are presumably reviewing them now, while in the courtroom, some 17 trial watchers, reporters, and two sketch artists sit in the gallery as the exhibit list is finalized by the judge and other parties. Prosecutor Sequeira says he is heading back to his office, which is just down the block. Polk will be allowed to stay at the defense table. The judge says the jury has asked to leave at 4:30 p.m. today because they had a shortened lunch. A verdict today seems unlikely.— Lisa Sweetingham

A well-placed courtroom source has just sent me a text message saying the jury has requested Polk's clothing, interrogation tape, Felix's autopsy report and photos, and the crime scene log. I'm heading back into the courtroom, aka the "No BlackBerry Zone," to confirm.— Lisa Sweetingham

Valerie Harris, a Scott Peterson-trial-watcher-turned-Susan-Polk-case manager, has been Polk's loyal right-hand woman since Dan Horowitz and Ivan Golde first hired her to help with the case before they became fired Polk attorneys No. 4 and 5. Harris is a computer consultant who has no legal training, but has picked up a lot in the last year. Harris takes my seat next to Crier to try to speak for Susan, always a perilous, do-at-your-own-risk affair. Harris confirms she just got Polk's signature on the judge Brady recusal motion.— Lisa Sweetingham

Sitting in a chair under a press tent erected by Crier Live's crew, Catherine Crier is reporting live from the courthouse. Passers-by sometimes stop and stare as the cameras roll, like deer caught in the headlights. But Crier is a pro and doesn't even notice as she does her show. — Lisa Sweetingham

As the parties get ready to mull over evidence again, outside the news trucks and roving reporters are discussing the latest news, which we are hearing in speculative bits and pieces. Polk reportedly has a new motion to have the judge recused, based on the fact that she limited her closing argument to three hours. — Lisa Sweetingham

As I'm walking to my car, I notice three jurors sitting on a bench near the parking lot chatting and laughing. The judge has permitted them to leave during the lunch recess, kind of like seniors who get to eat off-campus, and so the rest of us are constantly looking over our shoulders to see who's in line at the local lunch spots before we talk about the case. What is not allowed? Cellphones in the deliberation room. Any emergency calls to the jurors have to be made to the clerk, because their phones are in the "off" position. Court ruling.— Lisa Sweetingham

Well, that didn't last very long.

"Ms. Polk, if you continue to debate this with me..." is a constant refrain from the judge.

It began with Polk rehashing an old issue: She wants her entire diary, in which she discusses Felix's behavior, to be admitted as prior evidence of violence by the decedent. The judge has previously ruled that portions of Polk's writings were admitted for state of mind, others were for the truth of the matter and many — recipes and poems and descriptions of special meals she put together — were not relevant. (This is the same diary that her son Gabe calls her "diary of events real and imagined.") Polk accuses the judge of reneging on a deal to let the diary in as "truth of the matter"-type evidence. There was no "deal," the judge says, and "the record speaks for itself."

"You instruct your court reporter to falsify the record," Polk snaps back. The judge threatens to sanction Polk if she makes "one more unsupported allegation of criminal behavior by any member of my staff."

"It's supported by my notes," Polk interrupts.

"Your notes," the judge replies, "are not evidence."

The hearing pretty much devolves from here. "That's it. We're done until 1:30," Judge Brady says, taking her tea mug with her as she leaves the bench.— Lisa Sweetingham

Everything in this trial has taken longer than expected to complete, including arguments over the final list of items of evidence that jurors may consider during their delibs. "We're close to 700 exhibits," Judge Laurel Brady told the jurors before they began. She sent them in with everything that's been ruled on, including the bloody ottoman — "Please use gloves," the judge said — and will send the rest after a final hearing, now taking place. We are now hearing the judge's rulings on the balance of exhibits.— Lisa Sweetingham

The judge has asked the two alternate jurors to give her clerk their phone numbers so they can be contacted at a moment's notice if they are needed. Alternate No. 2, whose ringing cellphone interrupted Polk's closing argument yesterday, smiles as she explains she has to turn her phone back on to get her own number. The judge laughs. There has been a pervasive sense of relief in the courtroom, perhaps because the proceedings have gotten this far without a mistrial, even with Polk's five new motions for a mistrial lodged just this morning during the prosecutor's rebuttal closing. Polk was not laughing today.— Lisa Sweetingham

Murder defendant Susan Polk no longer has the floor. Now the case is in the hands of the jury. After being talked at for more than three months, and sitting quietly through Polk's bizarre testimony about Mossad agents, psychic trances, and the daily trauma she claims she was subjected to by her allegedly abusive therapist husband, the six men and six women who will decide her fate have collected their notebooks and followed a bailiff into the deliberation room. Outside, trial watchers are already making calls on who will be selected foreperson. — Lisa Sweetingham