By 10am on Wednesday morning there was a line of close to 30 lawn chairs on the sidewalk in front of Carroll County Courthouse.
Each would be occupied all day and all night by somebody hoping to snag a coveted seat for closing arguments in Richard Allen’s trial in Delphi, Indiana on Thursday.
It has been like this six days a week since opening statements kicked off on October 18, save for the fact that until Wednesday, when sheriff deputies instituted a ban on chairs on the premises before 7am the chairs and their occupants along with blankets, cushions, and supplies could be found on the access ramp of the courthouse itself.
It is seven years since February 13, 2017, when best friends Liberty German, 14, and Abigail Williams, 13, set off on the trail walk from which they would never return.
They followed the Monon High Bridge trail, making the perilous journey across the disused railway bridge that gave it its name.
Closing arguments were heard in the double murder trial of suspect Richard Allen, 52, on Friday after weeks of testimony
Allen is charged with killing best friends Libby, 14, and Abby, 13, after they went on a hike outside their hometown of Delphi, Indiana, in February 2017
Sixty-three feet above the creek, with no barrier and riddled with missing beams it was the sort of thing teenagers did for a dare.
Arriving at the end, Libby turned to video her friend and captured the image of a man walking with purpose behind her – Bridge Guy.
Now, after 17 days of evidence and 60 witnesses the state has worked to convince jurors that when they look at the almost fragile figure of Allen who sits at the defense table each day it is Bridge Guy that they see.
Inside and outside the courtroom the atmosphere has been one of intense emotion.
The crime shook this small Indiana town, whose name became synonymous with its horror, profoundly.
In the years since, a host of podcasts, Youtubers, true crime fanatics, and conspiracy theorists have bloomed, all gripped with a sort of frenzy that has, at times, erupted into angry confrontations over the past four weeks.
Strong feelings combined with scant public seating and the contentious practice of some who have paid line-sitters hundreds of dollars to avoid an overnight wait have seen tempers flare more than once and deputies step in.
Pictured: Inside the Carroll County courtroom where Richard Allen’s murder trial entered its 15th day on Monday November 4
Spectators line up to enter the Carroll County Courthouse to sit in on Allen’s trial on Friday, October 18
Inside and outside the courtroom the atmosphere has been one of intense emotion, with dozens lining up in hopes of sitting in on the trial daily. Pictured: Spectators lining up outside Carroll County Court on October 18
Right from the start Allen County Special Judge Frances Gull, brought in to preside over the heavily scrutinized trial, has been clear that she would tolerate ‘no nonsense’ in her court.
Allen County Special Judge Frances Gull is presiding over the case
She sits at the bench framed by an American and an Indiana state flag and two lamps whose glass shades hang from the scales of justice.
On her orders seating is strictly allocated: ten seats for the state, ten for the defense and ten each for the families of both victims and Allen.
With a further 12 set aside for credentialed media – drawn for each day in a weekly lottery of pool reporters denoted by green lanyards – that leaves just 16 seats for those waiting in line.
There is no drinking or eating in court.
After some members of the public ate chips in her court during jury selection Judge Gull told the gallery at the get go: ‘I’m not your mom. I’m not picking up your trash.’
Water bottles and snacks must be kept in bags and only taken out and consumed in the hallways or outside the courthouse.
And there is absolutely no talking in the public gallery when court is in session.
The now clean-shaven accused double-murderer is seen sitting alongside defense attorney Andrew Baldwin in a court sketch from Saturday November 2
Richard Allen’s wife Kathy broke down in tears on Thursday as the court listened to him confess to the murders of Libby and Abby in multiple prison phone calls
The crime shook this small Indiana town, whose name became synonymous with the horrific double murders
On Wednesday, clearly frustrated by the rising level of chatter across previous days, Gull instructed Sheriff’s Deputies to address the public and inform them that anyone caught whispering or commenting would be tapped on the shoulder, escorted from the court and permanently ejected: ‘No questions asked.’
Two deputies remained in court to enforce the edict.
But with many having lined up all night it was clearly not a chance any were willing to take as Wednesday’s proceedings played out to a silent court.
Each morning doors open at 8am and the steady stream of family members, friends, media and onlookers slowly makes its way through airport style security.
Bags and all belongings are screened, attendees must pass through a metal detector and are frequent monitored.
There are no electronics of any kind allowed in the 1916 courthouse. Smartwatches, phones, vapes, air pods, laptops, chargers – even smart glasses – are all on the list of items that must be abandoned in a cardboard box set at the courthouse doors.
With no electronics to lean on, the print and broadcast media who have, for the most part, sat in the front row each day in front of the Allen family, have frantically scribbled their notes, running through countless notepads and pens across the days.
The two set off on a trail hike on the fateful day of February 13, 2017. They followed the Monon High Bridge trail, making the perilous journey across the disused railway bridge that gave it its name
Sixty-three feet above the creek, with no barrier and riddled with missing sleepers it was the sort of thing teenagers did for a dare
Arriving at the end Libby turned to video her friend and captured the image of a man walking with purpose behind her – ‘Bridge Guy ‘
Once inside the main doors those who don’t make it into the morning session, which starts in the third floor Circuit Court at 9am, immediately stand behind a cordon on the ground floor to wait for a chance to get in after the lunch break when public seats must be surrendered, and the line starts all over again.
Yet more lines form immediately at the third and first floor restrooms in the short morning and afternoon breaks – usually 15 minutes around 11am and 3pm.
Maintenance has been called in more than once to fix the 1900s plumbing which has buckled in the face of such demand.
In court Abby and Libby’s family members sit in the second and third rows to the left of a central aisle while Allen’s wife Kathy, frequently with his mother and stepfather and half-sister Jaime, sits in the second row to the right.
Allen’s daughter Brittany has been absent apart from Tuesday when she briefly testified that she loved her father, that he had not – as he confessed in prison – molested her and that she would not lie for him.
State prosecutors Nick McLeland, Stacey Diener and James Luttrull Jr. sit at a table to the left in the court well while Allen’s attorneys Andrew Baldwin, Jennifer Auger and Bradley Rozzi sit to the right.
Allen, who has worn button down shirts and khakis almost every day, along with reading glasses he barely uses and apparently does not need perched on top of his head, sits next to Baldwin each day.
At times he has taken notes, at others he has been seen leafing through his bible – a book so well-thumbed that the black leather cover has come loose from the spine.
He has frequently strained back to smile at his mother and at Kathy where they sit behind him, on one occasion mouthing ‘Are you okay?’ as the court was played emotional prison call recordings of Allen’s multiple confessions of guilt to both.
Outside, the lampposts that line the square in which the courthouse sits are adorned with purple and blue ribbons in honor of Libby and Abby.
Inside, the evidence has been presented and final arguments made. The case has been handed to the jurors and deliberations have begun.
Now, after seven years, there is nothing left to do but wait.
