It was a moment that was never supposed to happen.
Martha Stewart's attorneys had all but assured her that the moment would never arrive. But then again they had promised her that other moments would not arrive—she would not be indicted; she would not go to trial—and those moments had come.
She was astonished that it had come to this, that a jury was about to begin deliberating her fate. She had not lied to anyone; she had not engaged in conspiracy; she had not obstructed justice. She had, in short, not committed any serious crime. She was innocent.
Nerves were on end and every time the jury sent a signal to the bench—even if it was just to ask a question—it was as if someone had thrown a bomb in the courtroom. ...