It has lasted nearly two months, featured dozens of witnesses, an 83-minute tape, tales of crack cocaine, sex, deceit, racism, witch hunts, even light bulbs and lemon juice. But the trial of D.C. Mayor Marion Barry, it seems, has done little to transform hearts and minds around the District.

In all corners of the city, residents say the opinions they held about the mayor's conduct, or the government's conduct, are much the same as they were when the defense and prosecution first squabbled over jurors in June.

And if at this point there is any prevailing thought about the trial, it is this: Enough already. A half-year's debate on the mayor's Jan. 18 arrest at the Vista Hotel, and the legal and racial crossfire it has provoked, appears to have left residents weary and eager, even desperate, for a verdict.

"It's been a saga that's gone on too long, and I'm about sick of it," said Margaret Jones, a longtime Southeast resident who lives near the mayor. "The whole thing, on all sides, has been unfortunate."

Jones and many other city residents cited few moments in the trial that either shifted their views or left a lasting impression. Above all, they say the tape of the FBI sting still flickers in their minds: Hazel Diane "Rasheeda" Moore on the phone coaxing Barry to her hotel room; Barry rearing back with a crack pipe; or the squad of agents suddenly seizing the mayor.

"The tape, that's the one thing I keep thinking about," said Susie King, a Northeast resident who works in D.C. government. "I remember even after midnight that day, it was still on TV. I think it was shown too much. After that, I've been disenchanted with the whole thing."

To some residents, the trial has been the tape, nothing else. It's either clear proof that the government, at whatever cost, wanted Marion Barry toppled, or it's the most vivid example of how troubled Barry truly is. Much of what other witnesses have claimed, it seems, has been either forgotten or ignored.

"The tape was the emotional high point," said Ray Browne, a community activist in Georgetown. "People saw what it was actually like. I think that was the only thing that shocked anyone. Now, I think people want the trial over with. People are fatigued, they're eager to see the city get on."

Yet after the weeks of testimony, some residents say the trial has done nothing to resolve their clashing emotions -- at once sympathy for a man they believe was framed, yet anger with how they say he betrayed them.

Mary Lee, a clerk at Woodridge Hardware in Northeast, reflects that mood. "I'm still mixed up," Lee said during a break behind the store's counter. "I never had anything against the man, and I don't think they had to go after him like that. But I have five children, you know. I wouldn't want them doing any drugs, ever." Lee paused, then frowned.

"When I saw the tape, it really bothered me. Still bothers me, seeing him do that. It was sad. I never thought he was in that much trouble, personally. My daughter saw him at her high school after one of the students was killed, and he preached against drugs. Then she saw him on the TV. She couldn't believe they actually caught him doing it after he was talking to the students."

To others, the trial has had no effect but to deepen their outrage over how much time and money law enforcement officials have spent pursuing Barry. But that opinion, they say, comes largely from watching Barry or his supporters speak outside the trial -- not from anyone's courtroom testimony.

Mike Johnson says he has made one vow since the trial began: not to trust the federal government ever again. Johnson spends his days on a Georgia Avenue corner, selling T-shirts with harsh commentary on the trial. A best-selling shirt, he said, is a print of Rasheeda Moore in a car, wearing sunglasses and a stern expression. Then the words: "You can change your name, your looks, your location. But you can't change what you are: a bitch."

"None of it has been fair, from start to finish," Johnson said. "The mayor has his faults, but look at the money they spent, look at who they forced to testify. That judge wouldn't even let Minister {Louis} Farrakhan in." U.S. District Judge Thomas Penfield Jackson eventually relented and admitted the Nation of Islam leader as an observer to the trial after an appeals court made it clear he had no choice.

Barry's trial has produced an avalanche of sordid allegations: that he used drugs more than 100 times, on boats or in hotels, using sherbet glasses or business cards. Yet little talk of that can be found on city streets.

Along with the central theme of Barry's innocence or guilt, and the ethics of how he was caught, the only subplots that seem to linger in conversation are what effect the trial has had on race relations in the city, and how Effi Barry has maintained her stoic style.

"That's what everyone I know is talking about now: Effi," said Al Pearsall, a community activist in Anacostia. "A lot of people are very impressed by how she has conducted herself and think she is someone to admire."

At Common Concerns bookstore on Connecticut Avenue, Ann Meet, a manager, said many customers talk about being disturbed with nearly every issue and every character in the trial.

"People are disgusted by the whole thing, the setup, the money spent and that Barry seems to have no decency left," said Meet, an Adams-Morgan resident. "At this point they don't care much about specifics. They just want it to end. Once that happens, I think people will feel a bit better about the city."