10:14 a.m. AKST: Jury deadlocked, mistrial declared

The parties are back in court, and the judge asks the foreman if they were unable to reach a decision on every count. "In regard to one aspect of all counts, yes on every charge," the foreman replies. The judge sends the jury out but says she plans to excuse them with thanks. Prosecutor West says reluctantly he must agree.—Harriet Ryan

10:06 a.m.

The judge reveals the contents of the note: "We are unable to reach a decision on all counts." Judge Collins asks Juror No. 7, apparently the foreperson, whether any "forward movement" is possible. Juror No. 7 says, "It's hopeless at this point." He says they are at an "impasse," and "We cannot produce a unanimous vote with any further deliberation." The lawyers go to the judge's chambers for a quick conference. The jury stays in the box. Waterman remains at the table. Jurors No. 10 and No. 12 appear to be crying.—Harriet Ryan

9:59 a.m.

It appears we have a verdict. The alternates have been brought from home to the court. Rachelle Waterman is in court.—Harriet Ryan

9:45 a.m.

The jury has sent a note to the judge. The parties will convene in court as soon as Judge Collins gets a break in the drunk-driving trial she is hearing.—Harriet Ryan

9:15 a.m.

What's the jury debating back there? Maybe the testimony of Brian Radel. The jury was certainly struck when the 6-feet, 5-inch, 277-pound confessed killer took the stand. The jurors were sitting just a few feet from the witness, and several panelists appeared fearful enough of the hulking Radel that Judge Collins pointed out the presence of beefy court services officer Al Fenumiai.

The judge might have been more assuring if she listed one of Fenumiai's afterwork accomplishments: Champion powerlifter. The 320-pound, 6-feet, 3-inch officer broke four of his own state records in 1998 when he won the Alaska Powerlifting Championship. He squatted 733 pounds and benchpressed 534 1/2 pounds. His next assignment in the Waterman case will be standing behind the Rachelle Waterman when the jury announces its verdict. If the 125-pound teen is convicted, it's up to Fenumiai to put her in handcuffs and take her to jail.—Harriet Ryan

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

Day five, hour 32 of deliberations kick off.—Harriet Ryan

2:30 p.m. AKST: Day four of deliberations ends

The jury is leaving early because Juror No. 7 has a root canal scheduled. They file into the courtroom looking more sullen and tired than before. Judge Collins wishes Juror No. 7 "good luck" with his dental procedure and says to the rest of the jury, "Part of me feels that I should be tucking everyone in at night." Prosecutor West has returned to Ketchikan and is replaced by Juneau's district attorney, Patrick Gullufsen, at the prosecutor's table. Thirty-one hours of deliberations. No verdict. They are to return tomorrow morning. —Harriet Ryan

11:38 a.m.

The jury has ordered lunch from Silverbow bagel shop. On day two of deliberations, they got pizza, which is a communal meal. On days three and four, they selected sandwiches, which are individual. Are their meal choices indicative of a split in the jury room? —Harriet Ryan

9:45 a.m.

In the high-stakes, zero-sum atmosphere of deliberations, it is easy to forget why this proceeding is taking place at all. Thanks to Lynnette Richardson for this photo taken at a family reunion along with this email reminder: —Harriet Ryan

My sister, Lauri, was a very kind and caring person. Quiet and soft spoken, she never had a bad word for anyone. She didn't want to hurt people's feelings.

She was also very patient, especially when it came to kids. She loved working with them and was gifted with patience. She was very devoted to her children and the community where she lived. Just 2 years older than me, we were very close, especially as adults. I will miss our long phone conversations together and the way she made me laugh.

Lauri was a big fan of sports, especially baseball. She loved to watch the Seattle Mariners play baseball so each summer we would all go to a game, it was great fun being together.

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

Deliberations resume. Is today the day? In many trials, a juror's clothing will herald a decision. Pressed slacks, skirts or makeup mean panelists are near a verdict and primped for their post-trial media interviews. Jeans or jogging pants mean there is still much work to be done in the deliberation room. As in most things, Alaska is different. The constant snow, rain, and mush make for a narrow sartorial scale that runs the gamut from jeans, flannel shirts and boots to jeans, sweaters, and boots. Today, the jurors sighted so far are wearing jeans and boots.—Harriet Ryan

4:55 p.m. AKST: Day three of deliberations ends

It's been three days and 25 1/2 hours, and still, no verdict. The seven women and five men tromp into Judge Patricia Collins' courtroom to be admonished about avoiding discussion and coverage of the case. "And have a good weekend," she tells them. Many are wearing jeans. Several have their shirt sleeves rolled up. They give her slight smiles and file out of court. Deliberations resume Monday morning.—Harriet Ryan

2:22 p.m.

A note from the jury: "We will not deliberate on Saturday or Sunday. On Monday the 13th we will deliberate from 8:30 a.m. until no later than 2:30 p.m. If we are deliberating on Tuesday, the 14th, we will start at 8:30 a.m. and leave at 5:00 p.m." Juror 9 has signed above a line on the preprinted note form marked "Jury Foreperson."

The jury is still deliberating, but the note seems to indicate that they don't expect to reach a verdict anytime soon. Asked if the long deliberations benefited Waterman, her lawyer Steve Wells said, "Well, it at least is clear they are considering everything and making sure their decision is one that accurately reflects all of their thoughts about the evidence."—Harriet Ryan

11:50 a.m.

The jurors' lunch arrives. No pizza today. Instead they opted for sandwiches from the Silverbow, a bagel shop two blocks from court.—Harriet Ryan

11:19 a.m.

The whole case seems contained in the debate over the definition of "engage." Both sides agree that the judge should tell the jurors it means "to involve one's self; take part in," but the defense is clamoring to add "or to participate." When the judge seems amenable, the prosecutor notes that conspiracy doesn't require that Rachelle Waterman herself take any concrete step. She just has to agree to the plan, and then any one of the plotters has to make "an overt act," West says. In this case, Brian Radel and Jason Arrant admitted to killing Lauri Waterman, so overt acts are not disputed. "Participate" indicates that Rachelle had to take action to be guilty, he says. But, Judge Collins tells the prosecutor, "I'm not sure how you could take part in a murder without participating in it." "You can agree that 'Yeah, my mom is going to be killed,' and 'Yeah, I want you to kill her,' " West replies. In the end, however, the defense prevails, and "to participate" is included.

After the judge leaves the bench, the clerk reveals the author of the note that set off the "engaged" debate: Juror No. 9, a woman who appears to be in her 20s. So far there have been three notes, but none from the same juror. Juror No. 9 is the closest in age to the defendant and was a victim of domestic violence recently. During voir dire, she admitted to missteps as a teenager and said that whenever her parents asked what she had been thinking, "I said, 'I wasn't thinking.' "—Harriet Ryan & Harry Swartz-Turfle

10:47 a.m.

The note from the juror reads, "Can we please get a legal definition of the word 'engaged?' " The word is used in the jury instructions about count one of the indictment — conspiracy. According to the instruction, she is guilty of conspiracy if she "agreed with Brian Radel and Jason Arrant to engage in or cause the murder of Ms. Lauri Waterman."

Judge Collins pulls out two dictionaries — Black's Law and Webster's New Collegiate. Her copy of Webster's, which she notes is the 1979 edition — nine years before the defendant was born — defines engaged as "to take part or participate." Black's defines it as, "to employ or involve one's self; to take part in; to embark on."

Defense lawyer Steve Wells wants the judge to tell them engaged means "to participate in." Prosecutor Stephen West asks for five minutes to research the matter.The judge leaves the bench.

"They are taking things pretty seriously when they are splitting hairs on the definition of words like engaged, Rachelle's father, "Doc" Waterman, observes.—Harriet Ryan

10:35 a.m.

The jury has sent a note. The parties begin to convene in the courtroom.—Harriet Ryan

9:48 a.m.

Sgt. Randy McPherron, the lead investigator in the case, is waiting for the verdict at the courthouse.

Seventeen years with the Alaska State Troopers may not have made McPherron rich, but it sure has provided a wealth of good stories. Like the time he was sent to investigate a murder in Red Devil, a village 250 miles west of Anchorage with a population of 48. Er, 47. Anyhow, he flew in and found the victim shot dead in a cabin. By the time he had processed the crime scene and put the cadaver in a body bag, the weather had turned bad and his plane couldn't get off the ground. There was no hotel or police station, so he picked up the body and trekked back to the cabin crime scene.

"I wanted to leave the guy outside, but there were wolves and I thought they'd probably eat him," he explained. So he put the victim in the bed and sacked out on the floor. Despite the creepy circumstances, McPherron says he slept like the dead. "He was very accommodating. He didn't make a sound," he said.—Harriet Ryan

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

Jurors start their third day — and 18th hour — of deliberations.—Harriet Ryan