By Jared O. Bell
If you’re like me, you’ve probably been struggling with what feels like a world turned upside down, where justice, mercy, and compassion are in painfully short supply. The days feel darker, and the nights heavier. I say this as I sit in our nation’s capital, where the National Guard patrols our streets, homeless encampments are soon to be bulldozed, and undocumented neighbors are kidnapped and disappeared, all under the false banner of justice and accountability.
And yet, in the midst of so much bleakness, Judge Frank Caprio offered us a different vision of justice. Caprio, who passed away this week at 88, never sat on the Supreme Court, never wielded national power. He presided over traffic violations in Providence, Rhode Island, cases that most of us would consider routine, even banal.
But from that modest municipal courtroom, through sheer kindness and compassion, he restored faith in something many had nearly given up on: that justice could be both fair and humane. A former high school teacher of American Government who later built a career in law, Caprio was never supposed to be a global phenomenon. And yet he became one. Not by theatrics or scolding, like Judge Judy. Not by slick talk, like Judge Joe Brown. Not even by the measured fame of Judge Wapner. Caprio’s fame came from something rarer, and infinitely more radical: mercy.
After all, most of us would never have heard of this small-town judge were it not for the unpredictable lottery of social media. I first stumbled across Frank Caprio one sleepless evening, thumbing absentmindedly through Facebook videos. It’s roulette, really; you never know if you’ll land on mindless fluff, a tearjerker, or something that lingers. For insomniacs like me, that roulette wheel of late-night videos can be a strange kind of companionship.
What appeared on my screen that night was a grainy clip with a simple caption: “A United States judge is making fans worldwide for his kind-hearted treatment of people down on their luck.” The man in the video was Judge Frank Caprio of the Providence Municipal Court. By then, he had already become a viral sensation, his judgments, equal parts mercy and wisdom, circulating to millions around the globe. But I didn’t know any of that when I clicked play. The clip showed a woman burdened with $400 in tickets and fines, her voice breaking as she explained how she was trying to piece her life together after her son had been stabbed to death the previous year. Judge Caprio listened, not with the impatient detachment so common in courtrooms, but with the quiet attention of someone who actually cared. And then, in an act as simple as it was radical, he dismissed the fines.
I was struck by his kindness and empathy, and it drew me into watching more of his videos, learning more about the man behind the bench. In a country where justice so often feels uneven, unforgiving, and out of reach for many, Caprio’s small gestures of compassion reverberated far beyond Providence. They touched lives across the world, reminding us of what justice could look like when paired with humanity.
As I reflect on his legacy, I’m reminded of Martin Luther King Jr.’s words: “Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love.” We often imagine that to make a difference, to bend the arc of justice, we must hold high office or wield great authority. Judge Caprio proved otherwise. From a modest municipal courtroom, simply by listening with empathy and forgiving small fines, he showed that justice is not about the scale of what you do, but the spirit in which you do it.
I believe these moments remind us that justice doesn’t have to be purely retributive; it can also be restorative. That is what so many of Judge Caprio’s actions embodied, a vision of justice rooted in healing rather than punishment. And in his courtroom, we witnessed another truth: power does not have to corrupt. When guided by humility and care, it can become a force that uplifts and empowers those who need it most.
As we move through these difficult times, times saturated with injustice, and that word may even be an understatement, it’s easy to retreat. Also, if you’re like me, you’ve probably cut back on watching the news or scrolling through social media just to spare yourself the weight of it all. That’s normal. Boundaries and self-care are essential, even for those of us who care deeply about justice. But even in moments like this, we don’t have to feel small or powerless.
Judge Frank Caprio showed us why. From a modest municipal courtroom, he reminded the world that justice doesn’t always come in sweeping reforms or landmark rulings. After all, what is legal is not always just, nor is it always fair. Sometimes justice transcends the letter of the law, emerging instead in the quiet act of listening, the willingness to forgive, and the courage to extend compassion where it’s least expected.
Jared O. Bell, syndicated with PeaceVoice, is a former U.S. diplomat and scholar of human rights and transitional justice, dedicated to advancing global equity and systemic reform.
