The courtroom froze.
The psychologist stepped forward. “That’s her signal. She’s ready to tell the truth.” She handed the judge an envelope Lila had given her in advance—“If Charlie barks, give this to the judge.”
Inside was a drawing: a frightened Lila cowering as an angry man loomed. Charlie stood barking between them. The message read:
“He says he loves me, but I’m only safe when he’s not near.”
The father protested, but the judge silenced him. Then, softly, Lila spoke:
“Charlie knows who keeps me safe. He remembers when I couldn’t.”
The courtroom was stunned. Judge Holloway looked at Lila and Charlie.
“You’ve said more in one signal than most say in a thousand words.”
She granted custody to the mother immediately.
Six months later, Lila sat in a sunny park, sketching, Charlie by her side.
A boy asked, “Can I pet your dog?”
Lila smiled. “Ask him first.” She tapped her chest twice.
Charlie barked happily.
Lila laughed—for real this time. The bridge was working.
