The courtroom in Fort Worth, Texas, is relatively small, as far as federal courtrooms go, and its gallery only fits about thirty people. Before the doors open at 8 AM, a handful of journalists jockey for position in a line that stretches down the hall, vocally anxious about being barred entry. American tribunals, already bordering on the nonsensical, don’t need much prodding to cross over into the absurd, and the theatrics of this one begin in the foyer. The presiding judge sends everyone who doesn’t fit to an overflow room in Dallas, some forty-five minutes away by car. On certain days, there are more people than seats and, in the hallway, fault lines emerge quickly. Some journalists have tried and failed to elbow out family members of defendants or volunteers taking extensive and excellent court notes.…