The dog let out a low, sharp whine. Barely audible—but enough to make Officer Cross tighten his grip on the leash.

Emma’s tiny finger stayed locked in place.

— “She’s just a child,” the defense attorney scoffed, trying to break the tension. “Three-year-olds say all sorts of things—”

But Judge Mathers raised a hand. “Let her finish.”

Rachel looked down at her daughter, trembling. “Emma… why did you say that?”

Emma’s eyes never left the officer. “He smells like the man who hurt the boxes. He had mean hands.”

A murmur ran through the courtroom.

The prosecutor stood slowly. “Your Honor… this child wasn’t even listed as a witness. But her description… matches the unknown suspect’s profile.”

And then the German Shepherd—trained to detect anxiety, fear, guilt—took two steps forward. Ears up. Hackles rising. Not toward the defendant…

Toward Officer Cross.

Gasps exploded across the room.

The judge turned pale. “Officer… is there something you’d like to tell us?”

His face contorted. His fingers twitched. And finally—

He ran.

But he didn’t get far.

Because the very dog he’d trained… was the one who brought him down.

Emma clutched her rabbit and whispered:
— “Told you. Bad man.”