When Judge Frank Caprio peered over his courtroom bench, he saw before him an immigrant who earned his living delivering pizzas. The defendant’s English was not strong, and he struggled to understand the judge’s words.

“So let me get this straight, sometimes when you’re delivering pizzas, you drive fast so they’ll get there hot?” the judge asked.

The man hesitated before replying, “Yes, Your Honor.”

Judge Caprio paused and then shook his head in laughter. “You’re not supposed to say that! You’re meant to say — ‘No, I never speed.’ Let’s try again. … So you drive extra fast to get the pizzas delivered on time?” The man, still confused, nodded and said, “Yes, that’s right, Your Honor.” The courtroom erupted into laughter.

With a warm chuckle, Judge Caprio said, “You’re a hardworking man. Good luck to you. Your case is dismissed.”

This was just one of the thousands of cases Judge Caprio presided over in his Providence, Rhode Island, courtroom during his four-decade career. Day after day, people from all walks of life appeared before him — single mothers struggling to pay parking fines, elderly veterans struggling to make ends meet, and young students nervous about their mistakes.

What made Judge Caprio different was that he didn’t see defendants as mere case numbers but as real people with real struggles.

Instead of rigidly enforcing the law, he tried to understand the circumstances that led them to his courtroom. He asked about their lives, their hardships and their dreams. His court became more than a place of judgment — it became a place of mercy.

On another occasion, he asked a young student appearing before him for running a red light, “What do you study?”

“Engineering and math,” she nervously responded. “We were celebrating my straight A’s when it happened.”

Judge Caprio smiled and continued his questioning, genuinely interested in her aspirations. When the time came for his ruling, he said, “I’m going to take into consideration that you’re a student. I’m proud of you for earning those A’s, and I’m going to reward you for that.”

Then came his signature phrase: “Your case is dismissed.”

The fact that a powerful judge was showing such compassion made for beautiful moments. And it wasn’t long before the world took notice of Frank’s unique approach to justice. His television show, Caught in Providence, initially aired locally but quickly gained traction as clips of his rulings went viral on social media. Viewers were drawn to the warmth and humor he brought into his courtroom and his ability to balance the weight of the law with human decency. To date, videos of his cases have more than 800 million views on Youtube alone!

Despite his newfound fame, Judge Caprio remains deeply rooted in the values instilled in him by his humble upbringing. During my interview with him for EWTN News In Depth, we sat down in his holiday apartment in South Beach, Miami, overlooking yachts and luxury condos, while he spoke of his childhood in a cold-water flat in Providence. “I had the most privileged childhood imaginable,” he said. “I had the privilege of being brought up poor.”

His father, Antonio Caprio, an Italian immigrant and milkman, taught his sons the value of education and hard work. “He would wake my brother and me up at four in the morning to help with his milk route. When we complained, he’d say, ‘If you don’t want to be on this milk cart for the rest of your life, you’d better stay in school!’”

It was during these early mornings on the milk route that young Frank absorbed invaluable lessons about kindness and compassion. He watched as his father refused to cut off families who couldn’t afford to pay for milk, sometimes covering the cost himself. Those lessons stuck with him.

“Watching my father, I learned how to treat people with respect and dignity,” Frank reflected.

His father also planted the seed for Frank’s future career in law. “One day, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Someday, you’re going to be a lawyer, and you can’t charge poor people like us.’ That had such an impact on me. I never wanted to be anything else.”

After years of hard work, Frank passed the bar in 1965 and became a judge in 1985.

But it was on his very first day as a judge that he learned a lesson that would shape his career. A woman with multiple parking tickets stood before him. She was rude, dismissive and unwilling to pay. Frustrated, he imposed the full fine and had her car impounded. He felt proud of his firmness — until his father entered the chambers after court had concluded. “That woman has three kids,” his father told him. “How’s she going to feed them tonight? You probably just took their dinner money. You can’t do that!”

That moment changed Judge Caprio’s perspective. He realized that, sometimes, hostility in the courtroom came from fear. I asked Frank about this, “There’s a disconnect between the accused and the judiciary,” he said. “The prosecution has all the power, all the resources — detectives, attorneys, everything. But the defendant? They have nothing.There is such an imbalance there, and so I decided that I didn’t want to leave people with a bad impression of the justice system. So I would always inquire: ‘Tell me what’s going on in your life.’”

Then Frank told me the key to his thinking, “Just because you’re in a position of power doesn’t mean you have to use it against the people who don’t have power.”

If you search online you’ll see countless heartwarming moments from Judge Caprio’s courtroom, but when I asked Frank if there was one that stood out, he paused and smiled.

It was the day a 96-year-old man walked in, charged with an unpaid speeding ticket — the first speeding ticket of his life. The man’s name was Victor, and when Frank asked him to explain himself, he said, “Your Honor, I’m 96 years old and I drive slowly, and I only drive when I have to. I was taking my son for blood work.” Judge Caprio leaned in, listening intently. “You were taking your son to the doctor’s?” Victor nodded. “Yes, he’s 63. He has cancer.” The courtroom fell silent as everyone’s heart sank. Judge Caprio, visibly moved, spoke softly. “You are a good man. I wish you and your son good health. Your case is dismissed. God bless you.”

Frank and Victor went on to become good friends, and Frank surprised him at his home on his 100th birthday. It was a beautiful moment of humanity.

But after four decades of helping others from his powerful seat up on the bench, Frank shocked his millions of fans around the world when he released a heartfelt video announcing he had been diagnosed with incurable pancreatic cancer.

“I would ask each of you, in your own way, to please pray for me.”

This is something I asked him about when we sat together, and his eyes began to water. “I'm a firm believer in the power of prayer. There is no cure for pancreatic cancer. I have a deep and abiding faith in the Catholic Church, in Jesus, and in the power of prayer. I think it’s my last hope.”

Frank is undergoing chemotherapy and reacting well to the treatment, and although he misses the courtroom and being able to help others there, he says it’s his faith in God, and the prayers from his fans all over the world, that keeps him going. “When somebody came in and they thought the world was ending because of their issue, and I was able to help them, and see the relief in their eyes: I miss that.”

Today, Judge Caprio is 88 and has published a book entitled Compassion in the Courtroom, where he says his message is simple: Be kind to others, be slow to judge, and always show mercy. “I know I keep repeating these words, but compassion and understanding. Compassion and understanding.”

Judge Caprio’s story is a reminder that justice is not just about laws — it’s about people. In a legal system that can sometimes feel cold and impersonal, he proved that a judge can be both fair and kind. Through his work, he changed lives — not just those who stood before him, but those who watched from afar, inspired by the idea that justice can, and should, have a heart.