The courtroom fell into complete silence as Judge Merritt noticed the girl’s fingers twitch—a small, deliberate signal toward the golden retriever beside her chair. The dog rose at once, moving with purpose, its focus locked on the sealed evidence bag at the front of the room.
Scout padded forward, nails clicking faintly against the tile. He stopped beside the table and barked once—sharp, deliberate, commanding. Merritt’s gavel struck wood, echoing through the chamber. “Order,” he said, though curiosity edged his tone more than anger.
The child didn’t flinch. Her gaze stayed fixed on the dog, her lips parting slightly as though she knew exactly what he was doing. The courtroom’s air changed—tense, electric, alive with a question no one could yet name.