The jury slogged through a week of deliberations, and our Chapo campouts continued. Over the course of the winter, a culture and community developed among reporters, many of whom had previously not known each other. We hailed from publications based in the United States, Mexico, Spain, Argentina and the United Kingdom.

Technically speaking, federal marshals made the rules. But we developed a few of our own, most paramount among them: to sign and time-stamp your name on “La Lista,” a sheet of lined paper marking the order of the line. It quickly became commandment. Fail to sign La Lista, refuse to honor La Lista, or in any other way degrade La Lista, and you met with the withering eye of its steward , the Televisa correspondent Marisa Céspedes .

Others, like Alejandro Edda , the actor playing El Chapo on Netflix’s “Narcos: Mexico,” learned the rules. He added his name to La Lista , made a dip into the courtroom — and earned a smile and a wave from Mr. Guzmán himself.

And so last Wednesday, we signed La Lista one more time, gathering for one last courthouse campout.

Finally, around 7:45 a.m., we made our way inside the courthouse. At lucky number 22, I was the last reporter on the list allowed inside — and only because by some horrible feat of irony Reporter #1 dipped into the courthouse cafeteria (likely for coffee) and lost her spot before the last leg of security; she and the others who did not make it into the main courtroom went to an overflow room across the hall. (District Executive Eugene J. Corcoran estimated that between 225 and 250 people attended the proceedings Wednesday and that about 150 reporters and outlets covered the trial — he hadn’t seen more reporters on any other case, he said.)

Escorted by federal marshals, Mr. Guzmán entered the courtroom around 9:25 a.m. He appeared older than he had at his Feb. 12 conviction: His hair had turned saltier, and he sported an unkempt mustache. He saluted friends, waved a kiss to his wife, Emma Coronel Aispuro, and tapped his chest.

About an hour later, he would leave the same way he entered, the life sentence official. One of his lawyers patted his shoulder. As he turned away, Ms. Coronel, who is not allowed to visit him, leaned across the bench as though to keep him in her view a little longer.

“It’s done,” Angel Melendez, the Homeland Security special agent, said afterward outside the courthouse. “The book on El Chapo Guzmán is closed today with this life sentence.”