THE O.J. SIMPSON MURDER TRIAL : Constant Surprises Keep Heat on Media

What’s most striking about covering the O.J. Simpson trial in its final, explosive stages is the daily uncertainty.

At the start of the proceedings and through the middle stages, the pace was slow, as lawyers on both sides maneuvered like medieval armies burdened with armor and baggage, slowly approaching each other on a battlefield. Now, with both sides adopting blitzkrieg tactics, reporters can no longer anticipate events. Rather, we’re overwhelmed by unexpected developments, often several a day.

“We now expect chaos,” Harvey Levin of KCBS-TV said on a recent day.

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The chaos is not always apparent. The non-trial aspects of life in the Criminal Courts Building have settled into a routine.

Several reporters have actually grown fond of the food in the cafeteria. A recently installed loudspeaker system, resembling those in schools, carries the voice of television pool coordinator Nina Goebert to the pressrooms when she announces the opening of court sessions with a snappy, “Heads up.”

Most important, there’s none of the early trial tension between the journalists and the sheriff’s deputies who guard the courtroom. The deputies realize the reporters have their jobs to do. The press knows the deputies have their duties--and perform them well. This mutual respect resembles the pragmatic relationship between reporters and Secret Service agents during a long presidential campaign.

But our routine can and does break down without a moment’s notice.

That happened last Friday when an appeals court unexpectedly threw out the instructions that Judge Lance A. Ito wanted to give the jury about retired Los Angeles Police Detective Mark Fuhrman, who had invoked the 5th Amendment.

“We felt it was going to be a nothing day,” said KCBS’ Levin. “We joked in the morning that the trial would be worth one story--possibly.”

The ruling, announced at a crucial deadline time, showed once again the unpredictability of news breaks.

“We’re watching high-stakes strategy on both sides,” said Levin. “And we are reacting to the lawyers on both sides and their strategy moves. When they throw their opponents off, they throw off the media.”

The pressure is intense for both print and broadcast journalists. But it’s worse for television. We print people can look sweaty and harried, and nobody knows. But the television reporters have to appear calm, well-groomed and in command.

Those were the requirements for Court TV’s Dan Abrams on Tuesday when he was confronted with several developments.

First, he had to deal with a rumor that swept through the press corps in the morning that the defense was going to ask Judge Ito to end jury sequestration. Reporters scrambled to confirm the rumor, under pressure from their bosses.

Court TV confirmed it in the early afternoon, and Abrams went on the air.

“At the same time,” he said, “we were trying to find out about the mystery witness.” There was wild speculation about the identity of this defense witness, eventually revealed to be an FBI agent who doesn’t believe in the reliability of his agency’s scientific tests.

In the middle of all this, another story broke, about a juror who had complained to Judge Ito that her jury service was making it impossible for her to rent out property she depended on for a living. “That came out of nowhere,” Abrams said.

When Ito said he would look into what could be done to help her, the defense protested and the story escalated. Finally, the trial’s “glove man,” former glove company executive Robert Rubin, testified that the gloves worn by Simpson while commenting on National Football League games were the same make and style as those found at the murder scene. Abrams reported that.

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Such a day points up how different this trial is from any other.

Usually, a trial is highly structured, its path governed by custom, legislation and decades of court decisions.

Opening statements, the prosecution and defense cases, prosecution rebuttal, defense reply, final arguments and jury instructions all are scheduled in long-established patterns. Judges try to give jurors an accurate idea of how long the trial will last. Their eyes on the clock and calendar, the judges usually stick to their schedules.

News from the trial generally flows in the same pattern.

That’s not true of the Simpson trial.

The prosecution has started its rebuttal to the defense case before the defense has rested. Witnesses wander in and out of the courtroom without any logic governing their movements. Every once in a while, the trial lumbers to a complete halt.

But finally, the indulgent judge and self-indulgent lawyers face a deadline. It’s been imposed by restless jurors and a public appalled by the length, expense and aimlessness of the proceedings.

Time is running out on the Simpson trial legal eagles. They just have a few more days for their last desperate tricks. That explains the chaos.