But not yet.

You’ve got work to do.

Stay on duty.

Your friend in Christ, Carlo Acute is PS.

In 2020, when you hear about my beatification, remember everything we talked about.

Share our story.

Tell people about the dying teenager who visited a grieving man at a cemetery and changed his life.

It will help people believe God pursues them personally.

I kept that letter in my wallet for years, pulling it out whenever I doubted the path I was on.

October through December 2006 was the darkest period since Michael’s death.

Carlo’s death hit harder than I’d expected.

I’d only known him briefly, but he’d become so significant to my life that losing him felt like losing family.

Money was running out.

I’d made only three K-9 placements by year’s end.

Friends were actively encouraging me to give up this crazy nonprofit idea and get a real job.

One night in December, sitting in my apartment with Rex, nearly broke, I prayed out loud, something I’d only recently started doing.

God, if you’re real, if you actually sent Carlo to me, [music] if this nonprofit is really your plan, I need help.

I can’t keep doing this alone on savings that are almost gone.

I need a miracle here.

2 days later, a veteran named James called me.

He’d read about Second Chance Kines online and wanted to donate $50 drone dollars to the program.

My son died in Afghanistan, James explained.

[music] He was a K-9 handler.

His dog, Duke, came home, but my son didn’t.

I want to honor my son’s memory by helping other handlers and their dogs.

Will you accept my donation? That donation kept Second Chance K9’s alive through 2007 and allowed me to hire my first part-time employee.

Throughout 2007, the program grew slowly but steadily.

More departments referred retiring K9.

More veterans requested placements.

Media started noticing.

Local news did a segment about the program.

Then a regional magazine ran a feature story.

By late 2007, we’d placed 23 dogs with veterans and first responders.

23 lives changed.

23 success stories.

And every placement felt like honoring Michael’s memory and Carlo’s prophecy.

April 2008.

Exactly as Carlo had predicted.

I met Sarah Mitchell at a fundraiser for Second Chance Kines.

She was a veterinarian who’d volunteered to provide free medical care for our program dogs.

She was beautiful, brilliant, [music] passionate about animals, and completely out of my league.

We started talking about K-9 health issues, and somehow the conversation flowed for 2 hours.

She had a laugh that made me want to say funny things just to hear it.

She listened to stories about Michael and Rex and Carlo with genuine interest, not polite tolerance.

At the end of the evening, I worked up courage to ask for her number.

“Maybe we could get coffee sometime, talk more about the program.

I’d love that,” she said, smiling.

“But David, let’s be clear.

I’m not interested in talking about the program.

I want to know about you.

We were married in September 2010 at a small ceremony with Rex as ring bearer.

His police K-9 vest fitted with a small pillow attached for the rings.

Sarah loved Rex almost as much as I did.

Understood that he was family, not just a pet.

Our daughter Michelle was born in March 2011, named after Michael, feminized.

Holding her for the first time, I thought about Carlo’s prophecy.

Michael’s legacy will live on through your children.

It was happening exactly as he’d said.

Our son was born in June 2013, and we named him Michael James Richardson after my brother.

Sarah understood the significance, never questioned it, supported it completely.

By 2013, Second Chance K9’s had placed over 150 dogs with veterans and first responders.

We had a full-time staff of five, a board of directors, sustainable funding from grants and donations, and a waiting list of both dogs and recipients.

Every placement felt like a small miracle.

Thor and Marcus, my first success, were still together, inseparable.

Marcus had gone back to school, become a counselor specializing in veteran mental health, often brought Thor to sessions as a therapy dog.

Another placement, a German Shepherd named Atlas with a retired Army Ranger named Jennifer, had prevented her suicide.

“I’d planned to kill myself the day after Atlas arrived,” Jennifer told me during a follow-up call.

“But I looked at this dog, who’d also been through trauma, who’d also lost his purpose, and I thought, if Atlas can recover, maybe I can, too.

He saved my life, David.

Your program saved my life.

” Those stories kept me going through every obstacle, every setback, every moment of doubt.

Rex aged gracefully through these years, going from traumatized 4-year-old K9 to calm, wise 11-year-old family dog.

He adored Michelle and Michael, let them crawl on him, pull his ears, use him as a pillow.

He’d become the grandfather figure of our household.

Patient, protective, gentle.

But by 2015, Rex’s age was catching up.

The hip dysplasia that affects many German Shepherds, combined with the old bullet wound in his front leg, made movement increasingly difficult.

We managed his pain with medication, but I could see his quality of life declining.

April 2015, Sarah and I had the conversation every dog owner dreads.

When is it time to let go? He’s suffering, David, Sarah said gently.

You can see it in his eyes.

He’s ready.

I know, I whispered.

But he’s the last living connection to Michael.

When Rex goes, that chapter of my life closes forever.

That chapter closed when Michael died.

Rex has been living bonus time, finishing the mission Carlo talked about, taking care of you, being part of the family Michael never got to see.

He’s fulfilled his purpose beautifully.

We scheduled Rex’s euthanasia for April 28th, 2015.

At home, surrounded by family, I took the day off work, spent it with Rex doing all his favorite things, a slow walk in the park.

A cheeseburger, his favorite food, lying in the sun in our backyard while Michelle and Michael gently petted him.

That evening, Sarah performed the procedure in our living room.

I held Rex’s head in my lap, Michelle and Michael each holding one of his paws.

Sarah administering the injection with professional skill and personal tears.

“Good boy, Rex,” I whispered as his breathing slowed.

“You did your job.

You protected Michael until you couldn’t anymore.

Then you protected me.

Then you protected our family.

You were always on duty, always faithful.

Thank you, buddy.

Go find Michael.

Tell him I miss him.

Tell him his legacy is alive in Michelle and Michael.

Tell him Second Chance Kines has helped hundreds because of what you taught me.

Rex’s last breath was peaceful.

His body relaxing fully for the first time in years.

The chronic pain, the old injuries, the weight of his mission, all of it released.

We buried Rex in our backyard under an oak tree with a headstone that read, “Rex, K9 officer, always on duty, faithful unto death.

” That night, after Michelle and Michael were asleep, I pulled out Carlo’s letter, now 9 years old, worn from being carried in my wallet.

“Carlo,” I said out loud to empty air, feeling foolish but compelled.

“Rex is gone.

He fulfilled his mission like you said.

He protected me, helped me build this life, became part of our family.

Thank you for whatever you said to him that day at the cemetery.

Thank you for helping both of us understand we were still on duty.

I didn’t expect a response, wasn’t looking for one, but I felt a deep peace settle over me.

The kind of peace I’d felt that day at Arlington Cemetery when Carlo had shown up impossibly, bearing impossible knowledge.

Everything Carlo had predicted had come true.

The nonprofit, Sarah, the children, [music] the healing of hundreds of people and dogs, every single thing.

And in 202, the final prophecy would come true in a way that would stun me all over again.

Between 2015 and 2020, Second Chance Kines became everything Carlo had said it would be and more.

By 2019, we’d placed over 400 retired police and military Kines with veterans and first responders.

We’d expanded into three states.

I’d been invited to speak at law enforcement conferences, veterans conventions, animal welfare symposiums.

The kid who’d quit his defense contractor job in anger had somehow become a recognized voice in trauma recovery and animal assisted therapy.

But I’d be lying if I said those years were easy.

Sarah and I nearly divorced in 2017.

The stress of running the nonprofit, raising two young kids, financial pressures almost broke us.

We went through 6 months of marriage counseling where I had to confront patterns of emotional unavailability [music] that had destroyed my first marriage.

“You do this thing where you disappear emotionally when things get hard,” our therapist observed.

“You’re physically present, but psychologically absent.

Sarah feels like she’s married to a ghost.

” Those words echoed what Jennifer had said years ago, what Carlo had identified that day at the cemetery.

I had a lifelong pattern of hiding from deep connection.

Working through that pattern, learning to actually be present emotionally was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

But we came out stronger.

By 2018, Sarah and I were genuinely partners, not just in marriage, but in the mission of second chance K9, which she’d become increasingly involved in.

Michelle and Michael, now 8 and six, grew up surrounded by dogs.

Our house was constantly hosting kines in transition, waiting for permanent placement.

The kids learned early how to behave around working dogs, how to respect their space, how to show gentleness to traumatized animals.

One evening in 2019, Michelle, who was eight and startlingly perceptive, asked me, [music] “Daddy, why did Uncle Michael die? Was it because he wasn’t good at his job?” We were sitting on the back porch, Rex’s grave visible under the oak tree.

No, baby.

Uncle Michael was excellent at his job.

He died protecting someone, which is the most honorable thing a police officer can do.

He saved lives by giving his own life.

But you’re sad he’s gone.

Yes, very sad.

But also grateful.

Grateful because Uncle Michael’s death taught me important things.

It woke me up from sleepwalking through life.

It led me to Rex, which led me to starting Second Chance Kines, which led me to meeting your mom, which led to you and your brother.

Everything good in my life now traces back to that terrible day when Uncle Michael died.

Does that mean bad things can turn into good things? Sometimes, not always, but yes.

Sometimes God takes tragedy and transforms it into something beautiful.

That’s what happened with Uncle Michael’s death.

Michelle thought about this seriously.

I wish I could have met Uncle Michael.

Me too, baby.

But he knows you.

I’m sure of it.

And one day, a long time from now, you’ll meet him in heaven.

Do you really believe in heaven, Daddy? I didn’t used to, but yes, now I do.

What changed? A 15year-old boy told me things he couldn’t possibly have known, and every prediction he made came true.

that convinced me there’s more to reality than what we can see and touch.

There’s a spiritual dimension and death isn’t the end.

[music] It’s a doorway to that dimension.

In early 2020, just before CO shut down the world, I received an email from someone named Antonio Salzano.

Carlo’s mother, Antonia, I quickly realized writing from her organizational email.

The subject line read, “Carlos beatatification, October 10th, 2020 invitation.

” My hands shook opening it.

“Dear Mr.

Richardson, I hope this message finds you well.

You may not remember me, but we spoke briefly in 2006 after my son Carlo’s death.

He mentioned you several times during his final months, spoke about your meeting at Arlington Cemetery, believed strongly that you were doing important work that would help many people.

I am writing to inform you that Carlo will be beatatified by the Catholic Church on October 10th, 2020 in Aizi, Italy.

The ceremony will recognize him as blessed Carlo Autis placing him one step away from official saintthood.

I know travel from the United States may be complicated due to the pandemic, but if you are able to attend, I would be honored to meet you in person and hear more about how Carlo impacted your life.

He spoke of you with great affection and certainty that your paths crossed for divine purpose.

With warm regards, Antonia Salzano.

I sat staring at the email for 20 minutes.

Carlo had predicted this exactly.

Beatatification in 2020 in Aisi recognition as a saint.

14 years after his death, the dying teenager who’d shown up at my brother’s grave had been officially recognized by the Catholic Church as an example of heroic virtue.

“Sarah,” I called upstairs.

“You need to see this.

” I showed her the email.

She read it twice, then looked at me with wide eyes.

“The teenager who visited you at Arlington Cemetery in 2006 is being beatified.

” “David, do you understand how rare that is? There are only a handful of beatatifications per year globally and he died at 15.

This is extraordinary.

He told me it would happen.

In 2006, he sat across from me at a coffee shop in Georgetown and predicted his exact death date, his beatification year, even mentioned Aisi specifically.

I thought he was delusional or overly confident, but he was right about everything.

We have to go, Sarah said immediately.

You have to attend the beatatification.

This is huge, David.

The boy who changed your life is being recognized as a saint.

You need to be there.

COVID travel restrictions made attendance complicated.

But by October 2020, Italy had opened limited travel for religious events.

Sarah and I, leaving Michelle and Michael with her parents, flew to Rome, then traveled to Aisi.

October 10th, 2020, the Basilica of St.

Francis in Aisi was filled with thousands of people, mostly young teenagers, 20somes, people who’d learned about Carlo through social media.

His eukaristic miracles website, testimonies like mine that had spread online.

Cardinal Agugustino Valini conducted the ceremony.

[music] And when he declared Bato Carlo Autis, the crowd erupted in applause and tears.

[music] Images of Carlo flashed on screens.

baby photos, childhood pictures, teenage photos where he looked exactly as I remembered him.

Jeans, hoodie, Nike sneakers, that peaceful smile.

I cried throughout the ceremony, overwhelmed by gratitude.

This kid who’d taken time to visit a grieving stranger at a cemetery, who’d delivered messages he couldn’t possibly have known, who’d prophesied my entire life’s trajectory with supernatural accuracy.

He was now officially recognized by the church as someone who’d lived heroic virtue.

After the ceremony, I introduced myself to Antonia.

She hugged me immediately.

Mr.

Richardson, David Carlo spoke about you so often during his last months.

He said meeting you at Arlington Cemetery was one of his most important divine appointments.

He was certain God had sent him specifically to help you.

He was right.

[music] He changed my life completely.

Everything he predicted came true.

the nonprofit, my wife, my children, all of it.

I wouldn’t have any of the good in my life now if Carlo hadn’t shown up that day.

That was Carlo’s gift, seeing what God had placed inside people that they couldn’t see in themselves.

He did that for many people during his short life.

We talked for over an hour.

Antonia shared stories about Carlo’s childhood, his daily mass attendance, his love of animals, especially dogs, his certainty from a young age that he’d die young, but impact many people after death.

He used to say, “Mama, I’m going to die young, but don’t be sad.

My real work starts after I die.

” I thought it was morbid teenage drama.

But he was serious.

He knew David.

He knew he’d have greater impact after death than during life.

Before Sarah and I left Aisi, I visited Carlo’s tomb, his incorrupt body displayed in a glass case exactly as he’d predicted.

He looked peaceful, almost asleep, wearing jeans and Nikes even in death.

The informality was so Carlo, refusing to conform to traditional religious aesthetics, even as a recognized blessed.

I knelt by the tomb and prayed, something I’d started doing regularly after 2006, despite years of skepticism.

Carlo, thank you.

Thank you for showing up at Arlington Cemetery when I was drowning.

Thank you for seeing potential in me I couldn’t see.

Thank you for prophesying a life I never imagined possible.

Thank you for introducing me to a God who pursues broken people with relentless love.

I’ve helped over 400 veterans and dogs because of what you taught me in one afternoon.

That’s your legacy, too, not just mine.

Keep praying for me from heaven.

I still need guidance.

And tell Michael I miss him every day, but I’m living the kind of meaningful life that honors his sacrifice.

Rest in peace, friend.

Or actually, keep working.

You were [music] right.

Your real work started after you died.

Flying back to Virginia, I pulled out my laptop and started writing.

Not technical manuals.

I hadn’t written those in 14 years, but a testimony.

The complete story of January 18th, 2006, when a dying 15-year-old showed up at my brother’s grave, knew impossible things, prophesied my future with supernatural accuracy, and launched me into a life of purpose I’d never imagined.

I posted the testimony online, expecting maybe a few dozen people to read it.

Friends, family, people connected to second chance Kines.

Within a week, it had been shared over 10 Zazo Xaran times.

Within a month, over 100 Zozer.

People desperate for proof that God pursues them personally, that divine appointments are real, that even brief encounters can change entire life trajectories.

They found hope in my story about Carlo.

The emails started pouring in.

[music] I lost my brother in Afghanistan.

Your story about Michael and Rex gave me permission to grieve while still finding purpose.

I’m a veteran with PTSD who’s been isolating for years.

Your testimony made me realize I might benefit from a service dog.

Can you help me? I was about to quit my nonprofit because of financial struggles.

Your story about staying faithful to the mission despite obstacles convinced me to keep going.

I don’t believe in God, but your testimony about Carlo knowing things he couldn’t possibly know has made me reconsider.

Maybe there is something beyond physical reality.

Carlo had been right again.

Sharing our story would help people believe God pursues them personally.

The years between 2020 and 2024 brought unexpected opportunities to share Carlo’s story, and Michael’s legacy on platforms I’d never imagined.

Cable news networks interviewed me about second chance kines.

[music] Ted invited me to speak about trauma recovery and animal assisted therapy.

Catholic media outlets wanted testimonies about blessed Carlo Acutis and his impact on my life.

Every interview, every speaking engagement, I told the same story.

A dying teenager showed up at my brother’s grave, knew impossible things, prophesied my future with supernatural accuracy, and launched me into meaningful work that’s now helped over 700 veterans and first responders with retired canines.

The response was always mixed.

Some people immediately believed they’d had similar experiences with divine appointments, supernatural knowledge, prophecies that came true.

Others were skeptical, suggesting coincidence, lucky guessing, selective memory, making Carlo’s predictions seem more accurate than they actually were.

But I had evidence.

Carlos’s letter from 2006 detailing specific prophecies, dated and postmarked before events occurred.

Antonia confirmed Carlo had written similar letters to several people, all containing accurate predictions.

The notebook Carlo showed me at the Georgetown coffee shop, Antonia still had it, filled with Carlo’s handwritten notes about people he’d helped, including detailed notes about our conversation.

This wasn’t vague prophecy that could be interpreted multiple ways.

This was specific.

You’ll quit your job within 6 months.

You’ll start a nonprofit called Second Chance K9’s.

You’ll meet Sarah in 2008 at a fundraiser.

You’ll have two children named Michelle and Michael.

I’ll be beatified in 2020 in a Cisi.

Every single specific prediction came true.

In 2021, I was invited to speak at the Basilica of the National Shrine in Washington DC.

The same place Carlo had attended Eucharistic adoration before coming to Arlington Cemetery to find me.

The priest introducing mentioned that Carlo had visited this basilica dozens of times during his two weeks in DC in 2006, often staying for hours in silent prayer before the blessed sacrament.

Blessed Carlo had a gift for listening to God, [music] the priest explained.

And when God gave him specific instructions, go to this address, talk to this person, deliver this message, Carlo obeyed immediately, [music] even when it seemed strange or inconvenient.

That’s why he impacted so many lives in just 15 years.

[music] He was available to be used by God.

That phrase stuck with me.

Available to be used by God.

That’s what I’d been trying to do since 2006.

Be available for whatever God wanted to do through Second Chance Kines, through my family, through my testimony about Carlo.

But 2022 brought unexpected challenges.

[music] Second Chance Kines faced a crisis.

Our largest funding source, a federal grant that covered 40% of our operational budget, was cut due to budget reallocations.

We had 3 months of operating reserves.

Then we’d have to start closing programs, laying off staff, turning away dogs and veterans.

I spiraled into anxiety.

After 16 years of growing the organization, were we about to collapse? One night in November 2022, overwhelmed by financial stress, I drove to Arlington National Cemetery.

They keep limited sections open until 8:00 p.m. for visitors.

I walked to Michael’s grave, now marked with weathered stone 17 years after his death.

Michael, I said out loud, standing where Carlo had stood in 2006.

I don’t know what to do.

The nonprofit is in trouble.

I might have to shut down programs, lay off people who’ve dedicated years to this mission.

I feel like I’m failing.

Failing you, failing Carlo.

Failing everyone who trusted me.

No response.

Just cold November wind and the sound of distant traffic.

I pulled out my phone and opened the photos app, scrolling to a picture of Carlo’s letter from 2006.

I reread his words.

There will be times when you want to quit.

When you think you made a mistake, when the nonprofit struggles financially, don’t quit.

Keep going.

Easy for you to say, I muttered.

You’re in heaven.

You don’t have payroll to make.

Then I heard something, not audibly, but clearly in my mind.

David, it’s going to be okay.

Help is coming.

I looked around.

No one was there.

But the words, the certainty felt as real as Carlo’s presence had felt 16 years earlier.

3 days later, I received a call from a foundation I’d never heard of.

The Michael Richardson Memorial Foundation established by James, the same veteran who donated $50 Zon dollars in 2006 after his K9 handler son died in Afghanistan.

David, it’s James.

Remember me? I donated to Second Chance K9’s back when you were just starting.

My wife and I have been following your work for 16 years.

We’re getting older, no other children, and we’ve decided to establish a permanent endowment for your organization.

We’re donating $2 million.

Half immediately, half over the next 5 years.

Will you accept it? I literally sat down on the floor of my office, phone to my ear, trying to process what I just heard.

James, I I don’t know what to say.

This is exactly what we needed.

How did you know we were in crisis? I didn’t.

My wife and I have been planning this for months.

The timing is just God’s providence.

Help had come exactly as that inner voice had promised 3 days earlier.

By 2023, Second Chance K9’s was thriving again.

We’d expanded into seven states, placed over 850 dogs, built a training facility in Virginia for working with traumatized K9 before placement.

Michelle, now 12, had started volunteering with the organization, showing remarkable intuition with traumatized dogs.

Michael, now 10, talked about becoming a K-9 officer like Uncle Michael when he grew up.

But September 2023 brought devastating news.

Sarah was diagnosed with breast cancer, stage three, aggressive, requiring surgery and chemotherapy.

For the second time in my life, I faced the possibility of losing someone I loved to sudden illness.

The terror was crushing.

Sarah was only 42.

Our kids were still young.

We’d built a beautiful life together.

The thought of losing her felt like being thrown back to 2006, drowning in grief and rage at an indifferent universe.

The night before Sarah’s surgery, I couldn’t sleep.

I wandered downstairs around 2:00 a.m., stood in our backyard near Rex’s grave, and prayed more desperately than I’d prayed since Michael’s death.

God, I know you’re real.

Carlo proved that to me, but I need you to heal Sarah.

Please, my kids need their mom.

I need my wife.

The work we’re doing needs her.

Please don’t take her.

I stood there for an hour crying, pleading, bargaining.

Then I felt it again.

That same presence I’d felt at Michael’s grave in 2006 at Arlington Cemetery in 2022.

Not audible, not visible, but undeniably real.

David, Sarah’s going to survive, but you’re going to walk through fear first.

Trust me.

Sarah’s surgery went well.

The chemotherapy was brutal.

Months of sickness, exhaustion, hair loss, fear.

But by February 2024, her scans were clear.

The cancer was gone.

The oncologist called it an excellent response to treatment.

But Sarah and I called it grace.

Throughout Sarah’s treatment, something unexpected happened.

Testimonies about Carlo Acutis and Second Chance K9’s began appearing in major media outlets.

Netflix announced a documentary about young saints featuring Carlo prominently.

Major news networks did segments about his beatification, his Eucharistic miracles website, testimonies from people whose lives he changed, and my story, the grieving man at Arlington Cemetery who was visited by a dying teenager became one of the most shared testimonies about Carlo online.

By mid 2024, I’d received over 10 Azandar emails from people sharing their own stories of divine appointments, supernatural encounters, prophecies that came true.

People who’d been skeptical about God found faith through Carlo’s story.

People drowning in grief found hope.

People questioning their purpose discovered mission.

One email in particular struck me from a 23-year-old veteran named Tyler.

Mr.Richardson, I was planning to kill myself last week.

I’ve been home from Syria for 2 years.

Can’t hold a job.

Can’t sleep.

Can’t function.

I was literally holding my gun, ready to end it, when a YouTube video autoplayed on my laptop.

Your testimony about blessed Carlo visiting you at your brother’s grave.

I listened to the whole thing, crying.

The part where Carlo told you, “Your mission hasn’t ended.

It’s just changed.

” Hit me so hard I put the gun down.

I realized maybe my mission hasn’t ended either.

Maybe I’m not useless.

Maybe there’s purpose I haven’t discovered yet.

I’m applying to your program for a K9.

I want to live.

Your story and Carlo’s story saved my life.

Tyler got his K9.

A Belgian Malininoir named Ranger.

3 months later.

Last I heard, he’s doing remarkably well, volunteering with veteran suicide prevention programs, telling other struggling vets.

I was suicidal until a retired K9 gave me a reason to keep living.

That’s 851 placements now.

851 lives changed.

851 ripples of Carlo’s impact continuing to spread.

I’m writing this testimony in December 2024.

18 years after Carlo Acutis showed up at my brother’s grave and 18 years after he died at 15 in Italy.

I’m now 52 years old, the same age Michael would have been if he’d lived.

That realization hit me hard recently.

I’ve now lived longer without my brother than I lived with him.

But Michael’s legacy continues.

Second Chance K9’s has become exactly what Carlo prophesied in 2006, a thriving organization helping hundreds of retired police and military K9s find homes with veterans and first responders.

We’ve placed 873 dogs as of this month.

[music] 873 lives transformed.

873 examples of how trauma can be healed through connection with animals who understand service, duty, and sacrifice.

Michelle is now 13, already talking about becoming a veterinarian like her mom, specializing in working dogs.

She’s grown up surrounded by K9’s in transition.

Learned early that healing is possible even for the most traumatized creatures.

She’s the most compassionate teenager I know, and I’m not biased at all.

Michael is 11, still talking about becoming a K-9 officer, keeping Uncle Michael’s legacy alive in the most direct way possible.

He started researching policemies, K-9 training programs, already planning a career that won’t begin for at least a decade.

His determination reminds me of his namesake.

Sarah is cancer-free, back to full-time work, more vibrant than ever.

We’ve built the kind of deep partnership I never thought I was capable of.

The kind I’d sabotaged in my first marriage through emotional unavailability.

Learning to actually be present, emotionally vulnerable, truly connected.

That’s been the hardest and most rewarding work of my life.

The organization continues growing.

By 2025, we project placing over 1 000 dogs total since founding.

We’ve expanded into 12 states.

We’ve partnered with the VA to integrate our program into veteran mental health services.

We’ve trained other organizations across the country to replicate our model.

But more meaningful than numbers are the stories.

Like Marcus and Thor still together after 17 years.

Thor died last year at 19.

And Marcus called me crying saying, “He saved my life every day for 17 years.

How do I thank a dog for that?” We’re getting Marcus a new K9 soon.

a young dog who needs exactly what Marcus has to offer, patience, love, and understanding of trauma.

Or Jennifer and Atlas, who prevented her suicide and gave her purpose.

Jennifer became a counselor specializing in veteran suicide prevention, often brings Atlas to sessions.

She credits a dog who’d also lost his purpose with teaching her that recovery was possible.

Or Tyler and Ranger, the most recent success story.

a suicidal veteran who found hope through a dog and a testimony about a dying teenager who knew impossible things.

Every success traces back to that January afternoon in 2006 when Carlo showed up at Michael’s grave and said, “Officer Richardson isn’t in that grave anymore, but Rex needs to understand he’s still on duty, just in a different way.

Rex was on duty until his death in 2015.

He protected me, helped me heal, became part of our family, modeled the transformation possible when purpose is rediscovered after loss.

And I’m still on duty now.

The mission hasn’t ended.

It’s just continued evolving.

From technical writer to nonprofit founder to advocate for trauma recovery to testimony bearer for Carlo Acutis’ continuing impact.

Last month, I was invited to Rome to participate in a conference about blessed Carlo Acutis and his relevance for modern youth.

I spoke about our encounter, his prophecies, his impact on my life.

In the audience was a cardinal who’s part of the canonization committee evaluating Carlo’s miracles for potential saintthood.

After my presentation, the cardinal approached me.

Mr.Richardson, your testimony is remarkable, detailed, specific, verifiable.

The church is always cautious about claims of supernatural knowledge, but your case is compelling.

[music] Carlo predicted events years in advance with accuracy that can’t be explained by coincidence.

This supports the ongoing eye.

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