Expecting protestors, media and cops gathered at Fulton County Courthouse. They didn't show

As a light drizzle fell Tuesday afternoon, streets around the Lewis R. Slaton Courthouse in Atlanta were surprisingly quiet – especially given that the night before it had been the scene of the fourth indictment of former President Donald J. Trump.

Dozens of reporters for local, national, even international outlets sought refuge under awnings and trees along the still-barricaded Pryor Street, waiting. Law enforcement was waiting, too – with officers sitting in vehicles or standing next to motorcycles.

At one point a deputy drove past in an oversized Fulton County Sheriff golf cart, with what appeared to be a rifle between his knees.

A storied courthouse adds another chapter

The courthouse is in the heart of Atlanta's government district, within blocks of the state Capitol building and Atlanta's city hall. It has been the venue for many famous trials, including one in 1974 that ended with Marcus Wayne Chenault sentenced to death for the murder of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.'s mother, Alberta.

More recently, 11 Atlanta Public Schools teachers and administrators were found guilty in 2015 in the nation's largest test-cheating scandal – a case charged under the state racketeering law again used by Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis in the historic indictment of Trump and his associates broadcast around the world Monday night.

RICO charges, false statements 7 Takeaways from Trump's Georgia indictment

On Tuesday, the block in front of the courthouse was a riot of colors. Parking spaces were barricaded by orange plastic barriers. Neat rows of red, white and blue media tents stretched up onto sidewalks and into an adjacent courtyard, a reminder of Monday's daylong vigil following rumors of the impending indictments.

Otherwise, like any other weekday, pedestrians with official government business walked through the area, some carrying papers or license plates. Brayon Velas was caught off guard by the scene.

Velas, a senior at George State, was trying get a car registered. He was not up to date on the indictment, but he did know something was different — TV vans had replaced the normal food trucks.

"This is not regular," he said.

Mixed feelings on the indictment

Octavia Cook had seen the indictment on the news but decided to come down for her annual car registration anyway. Cook, who is Black, said she liked the former president because she feels he helped Black people and Biden hasn't.

"I hope they free Trump, I hope that they drop all the charges," she said. "I don't believe Trump did all that."

Willis had notified law enforcement well in advance of the potential indictment, giving them time to prepare security. But on Tuesday, these security preparations were not being tested in any obvious ways. Most passers by did not seem particularly interested in the courthouse — no protestors or street preachers or onlookers.

An exception to this last category was Michael Penn and his brother Sidney, who decided to bike down to the courthouse to see what was up.

"I was hoping (the indictment) came today because I kind of wanted to be here," Michael said.

Michael noted that the investigation took a long time, and likely was expensive for taxpayers. But when Willis "put the hammer down, she put it down," he said. "So I guess it was worth waiting."

Both brothers retired from the military; Sidney then worked in law enforcement.

"Coming from a law enforcement background," he said, "I believe if you did the crime you gotta do the time."

Michael agreed — he said he hopes all those indicted will serve time or serve as witnesses against others: "They were trying to overthrow our government," he said. "That's almost unheard of."

As the afternoon stretched on, the main event was a thunderstorm. Even as it broke, a few TV anchors carried on with their stand ups from under cover of their tents, recapping the news from the day before and speculating about what comes next – again and again.

This article originally appeared on Augusta Chronicle: After Trump indictment, Fulton County Courthouse is surprisingly quiet