Asher watched as they turned off one row of lights so the video could be seen better. He watched the entire video with everyone else. The first time he had seen the whole thing. He watched as the judge made a barely visible shake of his head when it was over. He was a shiny-headed old man whose pinkish face had softened and melted in his old age, causing him to favor an old granny-woman from photographs of the Great Depression.

Lydia was dressed like a television evangelist: a bloodred dress suit, large white ruffle on her blouse that skimmed her chin anytime she talked or moved her head, hair meticulously poofed and sprayed. She looked stronger now. But when her eyes fell on Asher’s he saw the hurt that still lived there.

“Your Honor, my main concern is having primary custody of our son so I can oversee his moral and religious upbringing,” she said when it was her turn to address the judge. At least she would not lie on the stand and say Asher was a bad father, either, when pressed by Fisher.

But none of it mattered and Asher drifted away somewhere when the judge came back in and awarded full custody to Lydia. Fisher capped her hand over Asher’s forearm as if holding on to a stair railing. He would no longer be required to have supervised visits but he’d be able to have Justin stay overnight with him only four nights a month. “The father shall have the right to unimpeded telephone calls and the ability to write his son letters whenever he chooses,” the judge said, his words gelatinous with phlegm that caused him to cough wetly, without covering his mouth. “The right to receive from the child’s school . . .”

Asher didn’t listen. Instead, his mind was already turning with ways to make it right. He should have stayed quiet. He should have stayed with Lydia. But as soon as these thoughts wended through his mind he knew that none of that was possible, no matter how badly he wanted it to be.

Lydia sat very straight-backed. She did not look victorious. Zelda’s shoulders were hunched forward with betrayal. Her gray hair was latched in a loose knot at the back of her head and he could see the trembling of her body in it. As soon as the hearing was dismissed Asher bolted to his feet and walked out. He threw the heavy wooden door open and half ran to the stairwell, trying to get away from it all. On the landing Fisher caught up with him, took him by the elbow.

“We can appeal,” Fisher said. “People think differently in Nashville and I think we can show that they were swayed by their religious biases. I’m raring for a fight if you are. I say let’s do it.”