Trial-Watchers Feed Mainly on Tidbits : Media: Any morsel of information about action inside the jury room prompts a frenzy of speculation.

At 12:30 p.m. Tuesday the six men and six women deliberating the fate of four Los Angeles police officers accused in the beating of Rodney G. King ordered out to Round Table Pizza for lunch.

What did it mean? Why were they eating so late? Could it be they had made significant progress? Or were they simply full from breakfast?

For the scores of reporters, photographers and court-watchers any tidbit of information about action inside the jury room prompted a firestorm of speculation as jurors entered their sixth day of deliberations.

The verdict vigil in one of the most closely watched trials in Los Angeles history was becoming an increasingly tense affair. Jury members conferred for a little more than six hours Tuesday, bringing the total deliberation time to 29 hours since they received the case last Thursday.

Outside the jury room, the million-dollar question was uttered over and over: When would the verdict be delivered? Courtroom seers hedged their bets.

“You guys are as good at this as I am,” said Michael Stone, the attorney for Officer Laurence M. Powell, responding to reporters’ queries about his prediction for the return of the verdict.

As he walked into the East Valley Courthouse to begin packing reams of documents, Deputy Dist. Atty Terry White commented, “What I really think is that it will be seven to 10 days” of deliberations.

In the meantime, courthouse denizens can sit back and watch a media event extraordinaire.

No less than 14 satellite dishes are pointed skyward to instantaneously broadcast the news. About 50 reporters and photographers wait in folding lounge chairs or cram into a courtroom-turned-makeshift-pressroom. Camera crews chronicle nearly every exit and entrance of attorneys and defendants.

Before noon Tuesday, Powell, who is accused of delivering the most blows to King, emerged from the courthouse holding several recently delivered fan letters. He was promptly surrounded by reporters hurtling questions and camera operators videotaping his moves.

Wearing a blue shirt, tie and slacks, Powell said he was feeling very apprehensive and described the tension-filled wait as too overwhelming. He said he is passing the time doing yardwork and trying to remain optimistic that he will be acquitted.

Seemingly eager to talk to reporters, Powell said he will not return to police work if he is acquitted.

“No, my days as a police officer are over. There would be no more fun to it,” he said. “I’m a marked man as far as law enforcement management is concerned.”

King “is no victim,” he added. “He’s just a civil attorney’s client and a political puppet.”

Earlier in the day rumors abounded as reporters and court-watchers caught a glimpse of jurors as they were driven into the courthouse in a Sheriff’s Department bus. Several jurors appeared to be dressed in spiffy clothes. Could that mean they were preparing for a public appearance? A few carried duffel bags. Were they preparing to go home?

After the jurors--who have been sequestered in a hotel--entered the courtroom, attention turned to the comings and goings of defendants and attorneys.

Three of the accused officers--Powell, Timothy E. Wind and Theodore J. Briseno--check in personally with the court clerk each morning. Sgt. Stacey C. Koon checks in by phone through his lawyer.

Wind, who turned 32 Tuesday, walked silently and briskly into the courthouse as reporters greeted him with happy birthday wishes. One middle-age court-watcher heckled, “I hope you get 20 years.”

As the afternoon wore on and the Simi Valley heat turned oppressive, the scene outside the courthouse grew more bizarre. By 3 p.m., about 20 court-watchers had arrived on scene to compete for the 16 public courtroom seats. Some launched into heated sidewalk debates about the trial.

Hot winds kicked up. A rapper from Venice turned on his boom box and began to bounce and sing.

“Why can’t you see the Statue of Liberty is crying, the Constitution is dying,” rapped Hendy Foote, who said he sells incense for a living. “Under the color of authority, police are beating minorities.”

At 3:50 p.m. the jurors took a break. At 4:10 p.m. they resumed deliberations.

Meanwhile, Keith Smith, 32, of Claremont and Dene Tyle, 36, of Moorpark held an animated discussion about the trial. Both had driven to Simi Valley hoping to catch the verdict live.

“I hope to God they don’t let those officers go.” Smith said. “I’m here to support Rodney King. Like him, I am a healthy, buff, young black man.”

Upon hearing that, Tyle, also an African-American, countered: “How can you support King? He was out of line to be driving drunk. I’m here to support justice. I believe excessive force was used and I want to make sure bad cops are eliminated.”

Tuesday afternoon, Don Jones of Gettysburg, Pa., arrived in his camper. Jones, 54, a retired Alaska oil pipeline worker, has been camped out in the parking lot for a month after traveling from the Mike Tyson rape trial in Indianapolis.

“I feel it’s my moral obligation to come out here and watch the justice system,” said Jones, who believes the officers are guilty. “I think it should not have taken more than two hours for this verdict. But it’s all just a waiting game now.”

Times staff writers Sheryl Stolberg and Richard A. Serrano contributed to this story.