Polk did not cry or express any emotion during the reading by the clerk. She was also found guilty of the special enhancement of using the knife in the act of murder. The boys were quiet. No emotion. Gabe held his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Marjorie Briner shut her eyes as if in relief. Valerie sat close next to Polk. The jurors looked out a lot at the boys and into the audience, except for Juror No. 7, "Cowboy," who wore sunglasses and stared out a window the whole time. Polk asked to have the jury polled. The boys and Polk watched as each juror affirmed their decision.

Jurors were excused. The judge will return and ask Polk if she wants to waive time before sentencing. Polk is alone at the table now, reading through her evidence code book. Sentencing is typically 20 days from the verdict. She faces 16 years to life — 15 for second-degree murder, one for the enhancement.— Lisa Sweetingham

Susan Polk has been found guilty of second-degree murder.— Lisa Sweetingham

We are heading into the courtroom now. The no-Berry zone. Signing off...— Lisa Sweetingham

Assistant Deputy District Attorney Paul Sequeira has arrived and is talking to the Briners. A deputy takes Paul aside for a quick private chat. More deputies are in the hallway now. The lines to get in are doubled up and peopled down to the end of the hall, roughly 80-100 feet. The family is now being led in.— Lisa Sweetingham

I stand corrected. The Polk kids have not gone in yet. They're waiting on a bench near the courtroom door. A half-dozen deputies arrive. Dan Briner is also here now.— Lisa Sweetingham

Gabe (left), Adam (right) and Marjorie Briner have just arrived. The men look calm and confident. A few reporters go up to say hello and give them words of support. They enter the courtroom.— Lisa Sweetingham

Valerie Harris has gone into the courtroom. No sign of Polk's mother or brother, who said they would watch for a verdict on TV. Alternate No. 1 has just arrived.— Lisa Sweetingham

Two lines are formed outside the courtroom, one for press and one for the public. In the past, the bailiff has let the first 10 from the press line walk in first for the front-row seats. After that, I'm not sure what order they're let in, but I know the room fills up fast. Before they made a separate press line, random trial watchers who parachuted in now and then to watch Polk testify would fight over seats like a game of musical chairs. (The regulars, of course, would never do that!) We are still waiting 15 minutes later. — Lisa Sweetingham

The verdict is slated for announcement at 11:15 a.m. PT. Jurors who would like to speak to the media afterward will be escorted to a secure location, likely the large jury assembly room on the first floor, where a group interview will take place. — Lisa Sweetingham

We have a verdict.— Lisa Sweetingham

The mood in the now-packed hallway is still anxious. A reporter and a couple of trial watchers said they saw the deputy leaving earlier this morning with his duffel bag. Although Polk has described him as courteous and polite during trial, this was the same guy she falsely accused of leaking information to the media yesterday. No word on when he will be back. But he will be missed by the peanut gallery, and surely the jurors.— Lisa Sweetingham

"I'm giving you fair warning," Judge Brady tells Polk. "If there are any interruptions, you will be removed." There will be no comments or objections from Polk — or anyone in court — during the inquiry of the jury, because they are still deliberating. "Well, I'm warning you right now," Polk tells the judge right back, and then says something about fabricated court records, mistrial, appeals, you know the drill.

The jurors file in, looking a bit perplexed about their new bailiff. The judge asks if the photo-taking session had any effect on their delibs. All heads shake. "No." Brady asks again: Anyone feel differently? Nope. They are released for their 10 a.m. break.— Lisa Sweetingham

And we have... lost a deputy. No verdict announcement yet. But the clerk has sworn in a new bailiff. Here's what happened, according to the judge: Yesterday, as the jury was about to get in the van after court, they asked a deputy to take a photo of them. That's okay with Judge Laurel Brady. But then they requested a group photo with a deputy and a sergeant. Brady felt it was not appropriate for the officers to take part. She calls the jury in to inquire if it had any effect on their deliberations or review of the evidence.— Lisa Sweetingham

Are you at the edge of your seat? So are we. The word has spread that not only are the jurors dressed up, but the prosecutor is here, and a few DAs showed up and then left. The courtroom doors have just opened. More later...— Lisa Sweetingham

Confirmation? Prosecutor Paul Sequeira arrives. He doesn't say a word as he moves in a steady pace toward the courtroom, but he has a look of anticipation on his face, a smile, eyebrows raised. It could be about anything. But the "Friday Hopefuls" are, obviously, hopeful. The courtroom doors are still closed.— Lisa Sweetingham

"The Friday Hopefuls?" trial watcher Alison (pictured) asks as she and her mother, Sheila, arrive to join the fray. Yes. We are all quite hopeful. In fact, there is a strange energy in the air.— Lisa Sweetingham

How could I forget? You want the style report! For the ladies this Friday, skirts, pantsuits and colorful solids are a summer must! For the gentlemen, expect casual but confident blue jeans, collared jerseys and T's in blacks and greys. "Blondie," Juror No. 10, looks fetching in a white skirt. Juror No. 12 is going Audrey Hepburn in capris, a white blouse and a hot pink jacket. Juror No. 9, as always: Classic in a smart, dark-hued pantsuit. "Ponytail" wears his hair loose and long today, presumably to match his blue jeans and black T-shirt ensemble. It looks like casual Friday for "CFO," who is dressed in corporate slacks, a collared shirt, and a leather belt. "Spiffy Cowboy," Juror No. 8, oddly, is dressed down today in jeans and a T. If one were to get a closer look, one would bet he is sporting his usual flourishes: A cowskin-hide leather wallet in his back pocket and a silver-studded leather belt. This man has style in spades. This is a good looking group. A TV-ready group? Perhaps.— Lisa Sweetingham

The white jury van pulls up to the secured side entrance of the courthouse, which leads to a patio lined with plastic faux-marble tables and green chairs. Several of the women head in and up the stairs to the second floor. "Redhead," Juror No.6, stops at the cafe kiosk and orders a hot chocolate. "Ponytail," Juror No. 11, orders a caramel coffee drink. "The Smoker," Juror No. 8, lingers for a bit to puff a few drags. "Smiley CFO," Juror No.1, is also buying a beverage. I am the only other person on the patio, sipping coffee and typing on the 'Berry, trying to be, um, a casual voyeur? As if! Ponytail and CFO say "good morning" as they pass by and head upstairs. — Lisa Sweetingham

The panel leaves for the day. No one appears to be straggling behind or exhibiting discord. Could our researcher's prediction from this morning be right? Friday morning verdict? You'll have to check back in the morning to find out.— Lisa Sweetingham

"We're turning into 'Lord of the Flies' here," says trial watcher Alison, the unofficial ringleader of the gavel groupies. The GGs are doing crosswords, trading clever verbal barbs and entertaining a reporter's question about effective murder plots. "Wait until winter, get a big icicle and stab him with it," Alison's mother offers. "Clean up good, with bleach," says Margaret. Staged suicides and death by carbon monoxide poisoning are also cited. This, of course, does not apply to the trial we are here for, and, OK, it's macabre to boot.

This happens to be a subject I've asked a few different law enforcement pros outside this courthouse about. Basically, what they tell me is that the people who get caught are the ones who talk, who know the victim yet fail to cooperate with police, and who leave behind a body of evidence. Which reminds me of convicted murderer Sante Kimes' motto to her accomplice son Kenny Kimes: "No body, no crime." They're both serving the rest of their lives in prison.— Lisa Sweetingham

"Shhhh! Juror!" The trial watchers self-police whenever a juror approaches the peanut gallery periphery. Ponytail cracks up as everyone suddenly is silent. Does he wield his power? No, he keeps walking. He does seem to be in a good mood, despite his pending relocation issue from this morning. Maybe they are in harmony behind closed doors?— Lisa Sweetingham

Gimme a break. The male jurors file out first, the ladies next. Juror No. 10, a pretty young blonde with a bit of sassiness about her, walks toward the bathroom. Reporters refer to her as "Blondie," in an affectionate way. She and a fellow juror — the one we like to call "Ponytail" — seem to be buddies. He cracks her up. Will they KIT after this part of their lives is over? Will he Stay Sweet? Will they remain BFFs?— Lisa Sweetingham

I'm back upstairs in the hallway and the trial watchers and media folks say there has not been a peep from the jury room. Juror No. 6, a female with red hair, was among those carrying bags of kettle corn back from the open-air food market down the street. Eli accused Redhead of sleeping in court during his testimony. She later moved her seat over near the window and the judge explained that the juror was not sleeping, but was getting headaches from the overhead lights shining down on her chair.— Lisa Sweetingham

Several jurors are waiting outside the courthouse with a deputy and as more show they are eventually escorted back up to the delibs room. They are smiling, laughing. Nothing here to report.— Lisa Sweetingham

Susan Polk has testified at length to being inspired by "Bridget Jones's Diary." It helped her to find humor in tough times, she said. Polk's own words have also inspired some levity in the courtroom. — Lisa Sweetingham

Before this morning's hearing, I got a follow-up call from Valerie Harris about the reluctance of Susan's mother, Helen Bolling, to come back. She's very old, she has health problems, she wants to make it, Valerie reports, but she doesn't think she can make the drive. "The end is near," is how Helen apparently characterized her own life.— Lisa Sweetingham

The jurors have gone to lunch.— Lisa Sweetingham

Throughout this trial, Polk has pointed her finger at various reporters in the audience, accusing them of both malfeasance and inaccuracy (while also noting that one of them was Jewish). So it was only a matter of time before Courttv.com was added to the list.

It has come to my attention, Polk says, that there has been a leak from the jury room to the media. And you, judge, she continues, refused to give the daily admonition not to talk to anyone, and this is what happens.

The alleged leak: that Juror No. 2 had been selected foreperson.

The judge asks for proof: How do you know it didn't come from either party, including the defense? Polk was sitting in court yesterday with the judge when both sides were informed who the foreperson was. Polk claims she was never given that information. "Well, then you weren't listening," the judge tells her.

And then Polk says that Courttv.com announced that the foreperson was Juror No. 2, turns to the audience, says my name and points me out. Polk says the information went from the bailiff to Court TV. Do you have proof? the judge asks again. Polk says we reported it as such (do I even have to say it, readers? No, this is not true) — and also claims she's been told that's how it went down by someone she believes. Not good enough for the judge.

For the record: the bailiff — despite my fervid attempts — is a leakproof character.

The jurors continue to deliberate, safe from the media. And the trial watchers and press hacks are in recess.— Lisa Sweetingham

Polk is very cross. Shocker. "I move for a mistrial!" she calls out again several times. "Based on judicial misconduct!" The judge tells her not to interrupt. "You lied to the juror!" Polk says. Polk seems to have finally begun to unravel. The judge announces that Juror No. 9 has asked for a note from the court to an airline, in order to change her flight plans without penalty. The juror had tickets to fly on Saturday the 17th. Now, before you all get all gossipy and start making wild claims about what this means, remember: They are a conscientious jury. These 12 folks came to court on time every single day. They could just be making, um, precautionary plans.— Lisa Sweetingham

Finally: silence...

The judge turns to Ponytail and says, essentially, don't tell me anything about where you are in your deliberations, but by Friday mid-day, if you are still having the same concern about your relocation date, then send me a note and we will have another hearing on the record. Ponytail agrees, and is escorted back to the delibs room to join his fellow jurors. Polk is brought back minutes later.— Lisa Sweetingham

Juror No. 11, aka Ponytail, informed the court a long time ago that he is relocating to Southern California and Friday is the last day he is available. He sits alone in the jury box now, and asks the judge if the court might consider bringing an alternate juror into delibs in case they go past Friday. Alternates are not allowed in, the judge says. Polk objects, followed by a long, angry, rambling accusation of misconduct, ignoring the judge's orders to not interrupt. Polk isn't listening. She refers to the juror by his name, and says an alternate should be allowed to sit in. The judge has the bailiff remove Polk and put her back in her holding cell. — Lisa Sweetingham

We're heading into the courtroom now for a hearing. More details soon. Juror No. 11 just got brought in.— Lisa Sweetingham

Speaking of TV, during our phone conversation, Valerie mentions that Susan was devastated when told about Adam and Gabe's Crier interview yesterday. "She loves them very much and just thinks that Adam has grown up to be another Felix," Harris says. "You have to understand, she used to wake up every morning and think, 'What can I do today to make my kids happy?'" That was, of course, before Adam and Gabe testified against her at trial, defending their father. Susan's middle son, Eli, rallied to her side. But Eli just spent his 21st birthday in prison, convicted of battery after a row with an ex-girlfriend. "Susan has nobody. The only person she has who could be at her side is in jail. The only other person she has is me," Harris says. "I don't play the walk-away game." — Lisa Sweetingham

Susan has always been a voracious reader, but her books aren't giving her much comfort at the moment. "It's absolutely nerve-wracking for her. She's on pins and needles," says Harris, who keeps in regular contact with Polk. Susan's mother Helen (pictured) and brother David went home to San Diego after closing arguments and plan to watch the verdict on TV. "I can't judge them," Harris says, "but if it was me, my brother and husband would be sleeping on the floor at the courtroom door." Polk is devastated by the abandonment, Harris says. "It really put all the pieces of the puzzle together for me. I'm very disappointed that they wouldn't stick around for the verdict... but I'm working on them. I'm an optimist to the end."— Lisa Sweetingham

What is Susan Polk doing while she waits for a verdict? Polk is in a small, private holding cell near the courtroom, the same place she was sent to during lunch recess and time-out breaks. Valerie Harris tells us Polk has been re-reading some of her husband's books that were exhibits during her case: The four-volume "Collected Papers of Milton H. Erickson," "You Are Psychic," and books on hypnosis. Over Christmas, Harris says, Polk read "The Company," a thriller set inside the CIA that Felix was reading in the cottage the night of his death.— Lisa Sweetingham

In the hallway, trial watcher Margaret and I are discussing other highly scientific principles, such as the old saw: One day of deliberation for every week of trial. Gasp! Testimony began in this trial on March 8. Margaret, not one to mince words, says: "If you take out all the BS, there's maybe only four weeks of testimony." Another Polk packer, a researcher who has followed several high-profile cases at this courthouse, says verdicts tend to come mornings and Fridays.— Lisa Sweetingham

A big white passenger van pulls up to the side secured entrance of the courthouse and our jurors are escorted in. I know you want the fashion analysis. OK, here goes: Jeans and collared shirts and blouses rule the day. The jurors who typically dress up are, natch, in slacks and pantsuits. See, this highly scientific practice of predicting a verdict decision based on whether the panel wears their TV-ready attire probably doesn't hold up in California, where casual Fridays mean flip-flops instead of Birkenstocks. And yes, the spiffy cowboy, Juror No. 7, has worn flip-flops to court before.— Lisa Sweetingham