Police Chief Tells Judge Caprio ‘Laws Don’t Apply to Me’ – His Response Shocks Everyone

Good morning. I am Judge Frank Caprio, and what you are about to hear is something that in my 38 years as a judge I never thought I would witness in my own courtroom. A man with a badge, a man who swore to protect and serve, a man who for 25 years was the police chief of this city, standing in front of me, looking me directly in the eyes and telling me that the laws do not apply to him. But wait, because what happened after those words, what I did in response, forever changed the way this city views power, justice, and corruption.

It is March 15, 2024, a Thursday morning. My courtroom in Providence is fuller than usual. There are reporters, cameras, nervous murmurs. Everyone knows that today is no ordinary day. The case I have before me is that of Police Chief Michael Stevens. 52 years old, 25 years of service, decorated three times for bravery, but today he is not here for his medals. He is here because at 2:37 in the morning on February 28, he was stopped driving at 95 miles per hour in a 35 zone with a blood alcohol level of 0.18. That is more than double the legal limit. And worst of all, when the officer who stopped him asked him to step out of the vehicle, Stevens pulled out his badge and said something that was recorded on the officer’s body camera: “Kid, I am your chief. Put that notebook away and go home.”

But that young officer, Officer James Chen, just 24 years old, recently graduated from the academy, did something that required more courage than most of us will have in our entire lives. He told his police chief, “With all due respect, sir, you are under arrest for driving under the influence.” And now, 15 days later, that same police chief is standing in my courtroom in his full uniform, medals shining on his chest, looking at me as if this proceeding were a minor nuisance in his day.

Let me tell you something about power. Power does not come from a badge, it does not come from a uniform, it does not come from how many years you have been in a position. Real power, true power, comes from doing the right thing when no one is looking, when it is difficult, when it costs you something personal. And today in this room we are going to see what kind of power really matters.

Mr. Stevens, I begin, my voice calm but firm. You are accused of driving under the influence of alcohol, severe speeding, resisting authority, and abuse of public power. How do you plead?

Stevens does not even look directly at me when he answers. His lawyer, an expensive man in a $3,000 suit, begins to speak, but Stevens interrupts him with a wave of his hand. Judge Caprio, he says, and the way he pronounces my name is full of condescension. I think there is a misunderstanding here. I was in the middle of an undercover operation that night. I was tailing a suspect. I cannot reveal more details for reasons of national security.

The room goes silent. I see the reporters leaning forward, the cameras zooming in. This man, this police chief, has just lied under oath in my courtroom. And I know it because I have in front of me the full report of that night. There was no operation, there was no suspect. What there was, was a drunk man driving at reckless speed who thought his badge would make him untouchable.

Mr. Stevens, I reply, my voice still calm. I have here Officer Chen’s report. I also have the recording from his body camera. I also have your department’s logs from that night provided by the mayor personally. There was no undercover operation scheduled. Do you wish to change your plea?

And here is where everything changes. Here is where Michael Stevens makes the mistake that will define the rest of his life. He laughs. He laughs in my courtroom, in front of traffic victims, in front of citizens, in front of the law itself. Look, Judge, he says, and now his tone is completely different; it is aggressive, it is threatening. You and I know how this works. I have been police chief for 25 years. I know all the judges in this city. I know the mayor, I know the governor. This room, these proceedings are for common people, not for people like me who keep these streets safe.

But he hasn’t finished, has he? Stevens hasn’t finished digging his own grave. These laws, he continues, pointing to the statute books on my desk. These laws were written to control citizens. I am not a common citizen. I am the law in this city. I decide who is arrested and who is not. I decide which cases are prosecuted and which disappear. And frankly, Judge Caprio, I think you and I should have a private conversation about how to resolve this in a civilized manner.

The room explodes. Reporters are writing frantically, cameras are recording every second, and I, well, I am sitting here looking at this man who swore to protect and serve, and all I see is corruption, arrogance, and a total disdain for everything this court represents. I take off my glasses slowly. It is a habit I have when I need to think, when I need to control the anger that is boiling inside me. Because let me tell you something, I have seen many terrible things in this room. I have seen desperate people do desperate things. I have seen poor people steal because their children were hungry. I have seen broken people make mistakes because the system had failed them. But this… this is different. This is a man with all the power, all the privilege, all the respect that comes with his position spitting in the face of justice itself.

Mr. Stevens, I say, and my voice now carries the full weight of four decades in the judicial system. You just admitted in this courtroom under oath that you decide which laws apply and to whom they apply.

Stevens smiles. He actually smiles. Judge, let’s be realistic. You have been in this business long enough to know how things work. There are rules for common people and there are understandings for the people who really make this city run.

And there it is. There is the full admission of systemic corruption, recorded, documented, impossible to deny. But Stevens still doesn’t understand the gravity of what he has just done. He still believes his badge, his position, his connections will protect him. He is about to learn a lesson he should have learned 25 years ago.

I stand up. The whole room goes instantly silent. Mr. Stevens, I begin. In 38 years as a judge, I have seen many types of criminals. I have seen thieves, fraudsters, assailants, but what you represent is something much more dangerous. You represent the corruption of the system itself that is supposed to protect us.

Stevens finally stops smiling. He finally begins to understand that this is not going to end how he thought. Judge Caprio, says his lawyer trying to intervene. My client is clearly under emotional stress.

Your client, I interrupt him, has just confessed under oath that he has been abusing his power for years, that he has been obstructing justice, that he believes he is above the law, and everything is recorded. I signal to my bailiff. Please play the video from Officer Chen’s body camera.

On the big screen appears the video from that night. There is Stevens stumbling out of his vehicle, clearly intoxicated. Officer Chen asks him to perform a sobriety test. Stevens laughs in his face. Kid, Stevens says in the video, I signed your paycheck this month. I decided to hire you and I can decide to fire you. Now go home and forget you saw me. But Officer Chen does not leave. Sir, he says with a trembling but firm voice, I need you to perform the field sobriety test. And Stevens, in a moment of absolute arrogance, says the words that will seal his fate. There is no test, there is no arrest, there is no case. That is how this works. I decide what is a crime in this city.

I stop the video. The room is in complete shock. Even Stevens’ lawyer looks pale. Mr. Stevens, I say, that video shows not only driving under the influence, not only abuse of power, but a pattern of corruption suggesting that this is not the first time you have used your position to evade the law.

Stevens finally understands he is in real trouble. Judge Caprio, he says, and now there is panic in his voice. I have served this city for 25 years. I have arrested dangerous criminals. I have made the streets safer. One mistake, one moment of bad judgment shouldn’t destroy all that.

And here is the moment. Here is where I have to decide what kind of judge I am, what kind of man I am. Because Stevens is right about one thing. He has served for 25 years. He has arrested criminals, he has made contributions, but that does not place him above the law. In fact, his position makes him more accountable, not less.

Mr. Stevens, I say, you are right, you have served for 25 years and that makes what you did even worse, because every day of those 25 years you swore to uphold the law, you swore to protect and serve, you swore to treat everyone equally under the law, and now here in my courtroom you have admitted that it was all a lie. I sit down and look directly into Stevens’ eyes. But there is something else I need to address. A moment ago you suggested we should have a private conversation to resolve this “civilizedly.” That, Mr. Stevens, was an attempt to bribe a judge. That is a federal crime.

The room explodes again. Stevens’ lawyer is standing shouting objections. Stevens himself looks like he is going to faint. Reporters are sending messages frantically and I simply remain seated, calm, because finally, after years of watching powerful people evade consequences, I have the opportunity to demonstrate that in my courtroom justice is blind to power, to privilege, to connections.

I gesture to my bailiff, please. We have a case of public corruption, obstruction of justice, and attempted judicial bribery.

Stevens jumps to his feet. This is ridiculous. You cannot do this. I know people. The mayor is my friend. The governor owes me favors.

And there it is again. Even now, even when his world is crumbling, Stevens still believes his connections will save him. He still doesn’t understand that in this room those connections mean nothing.

Mr. Stevens, I say, my voice now full of genuine sadness. Every word you say is making your situation worse. You are threatening this court. You are admitting more corruption. You are demonstrating exactly why the system needs to be cleansed of people like you.

His lawyer finally manages to quiet him, but the damage is done. I have enough to not only prosecute the DUI case but to launch a full investigation into his time as police chief.

Here is my decision, I announce. On the charge of driving under the influence with a blood alcohol level of 0.18, I find you guilty. On the charge of severe speeding, guilty. On resisting authority, guilty. On abuse of public power, guilty. And I am adding charges of obstruction of justice and attempted judicial bribery.

Stevens is shaking now. All trace of arrogance has disappeared.

Your sentence, I continue, is as follows: 6 months in county jail without possibility of early release. A fine of $50,000. Permanent suspension of your driver’s license. And I am recommending to the mayor your immediate dismissal as police chief and the revocation of your pension.

The room is in complete chaos. People are shouting, crying, applauding. Stevens is sobbing openly. His lawyer is trying to talk about appeals, but I haven’t finished.

But there is something more important than the sentence, I say, and the room goes silent again. Officer James Chen, the 24-year-old young man who had the courage to arrest his own boss, to face threats, intimidation, and likely the end of his career for doing the right thing. That young officer represents everything law enforcement should be.

I signal and Officer Chen enters the room. He looks nervous, scared even. Officer Chen, I say, come forward please. He walks forward slowly. Officer Chen, for your integrity, your courage, and your unwavering commitment to the law over personal loyalty or fear of retaliation, I am recommending to the mayor that you be decorated with the City’s Medal of Valor.

The room explodes in applause. Chen is crying, even some of the other officers present are applauding.

And Stevens, Stevens is sitting there watching as everything he built over 25 years crumbles because he believed he was above the law.

Mr. Stevens, I say looking at him one last time. You asked how this works. Let me explain to you how it really works. In the United States no one, absolutely no one, is above the law. It doesn’t matter how long you have served, it doesn’t matter who you know, it doesn’t matter what uniform you wear, the law applies to everyone equally. And when someone in a position of power and trust abuses that position, when someone who is supposed to protect the law instead corrupts it, the consequences must be severe.

I stand up. This courtroom represents something sacred. It represents the promise that justice is blind, that power does not buy immunity, that privilege does not erase consequences. And as long as I am a judge on this bench, that promise will be kept.

Stevens is taken away by the officers. As he leaves he turns one more time. You ruined my life, he says. And my response is simple. No, Mr. Stevens. You ruined your own life the moment you decided the laws didn’t apply to you. I only ensured you faced the consequences.

Three months later I received a letter. It was from Officer Chen. He wrote: “Judge Caprio, I want to thank you for giving me the courage to continue in law enforcement. After arresting Chief Stevens, I thought my career was over. I received threats. My colleagues avoided me. I felt completely alone. But what you did in that courtroom, the way you stood up for what was right regardless of who was involved, reminded me why I joined the police in the first place—not to protect the powerful, but to protect everyone equally.”

That letter is framed in my office. It reminds me why I do this job. It reminds me that justice is not just punishments and sentences. It is about sending a message that the system can work, that integrity matters, that doing the right thing, even when it is hard, is always worth it. Michael Stevens served his 6 months, lost his pension, lost his reputation, lost everything he had built. But Officer Chen, he was promoted, he became a symbol of what law enforcement should be. And this city, this city learned that no one is above the law. That is my promise to you. As long as I am on this bench, justice will prevail.