He Didn’t Need to Touch Them All.
They stayed. They cried. They complied. But does that make him guilty?
A Note Before We Begin
You guys. It has been an absolutely insane few weeks. I know I said I would be covering the Diddy case like clockwork, and I meant it, but life had other plans. After my daughter’s dance recital, I figured things might settle down. Instead, she started dancing over ten hours a week and summer turned into a full-time job. I have also been trying to get healthy. Cutting out drinking during the week. Failing, miserably. Forcing myself to work out. Failing at that too. Haha Trying to sleep. Trying to be the kind of person who drinks water before coffee. You know, stable.
But its just not me.
Let me tell you something. This trial makes you feel anything but stable. Even just reading it chips away at your nervous system. It is a steady drip of trauma, abuse, manipulation, humiliation, and violent sex disguised as power. It is like trying to stay grounded while someone whispers every nightmare scenario into your ear on repeat. Half the time you are reading about women being choked, dragged, pimped out, filmed without consent, and emotionally blackmailed. The other half, you are learning way too much about Astroglide, shower cameras, and what happens when an egomaniac billionaire thinks he is a sex god with diplomatic immunity. Questioning him. The women. The handlers. Yourself.
Alot has happened that I havent reported on because while the emotional weight of testimonies are still sinking in, something else started happening in court. Quietly. Strategically. Out of public view.
The lawyers began fighting over what the jury would actually be told when they went to deliberate. The prosecution and defense battled over definitions. Over phrasing. Over what counts as consent, what counts as labor, what counts as knowledge, and what counts as guilt.
So today’s article is both. It is the back half of Jane’s story. Brendan the drug mule and everything that followed in the courtroom today. The rules. The framing. The part no one sees unless they’re sitting through every sidebar and legal scrap over a single word.
Or watching all my favorites on IG and YouTube.
It’s where this case lives now. Not just in the stories. But in the structure. And if you are wondering how a judge’s choice to remove or add a sentence could decide whether Diddy goes home or goes down, you are not alone.
Lets go…
The Messy Truth About Jane Doe. Love, freak offs, and the illusion of consent.
When Jane Doe took the stand last week, the courtroom tensed. Everyone already knew who she was. The pseudonym didn’t matter. The timeline, the breadcrumb trail, the tone of voice, the history. This was Daphne Joy. And for the first time, we weren’t watching a woman through filters and fame. We were watching someone try to survive herself on the stand.
She talked about the house. The rent. The rules. The feeling that nothing was ever free. That love was a contract and every gesture had a price tag. “The guilty-trippy things that he would say,” she explained, “that I had to perform.” She said it started when she moved in, April 2023. That’s when she stopped feeling safe and started feeling owned.
She told the jury she texted him, “I don’t want to feel obligated,” and “I feel like I’m being manipulated into sex acts.” But the defense had their own ammo. They brought up messages where she said, “I miss hard dick,” and “You turn me on so crazy, can’t wait.” It was exactly the kind of contradiction they were hoping for. But the prosecution didn’t flinch. Because this is what psychological warfare looks like. Perform intimacy, or lose everything. Smile in the photo, or get replaced. Text the right things, or he’ll make you pay in other ways.
Diddy kept the tone casual. “Movie night or entertainment?”
She knew what that meant. So did the jury. It meant freak off. It meant escorts. It meant text Sly. It meant pretend this is normal.
“Where’s Sly?” he asked. “Let me know if it’s entertainment or a chill night. I’ll get a hotel.”
Jane admitted she connected them. She brought in the men. Sly’s real name is Cabral. She was the go-between. The facilitator. She blurred the line between guest and staff. Between fantasy and function. Between being there for fun and being there to keep him happy. She described the way things would spiral. How she’d get jealous. How she’d argue. One night in LA, she saw he was with an ex and fell apart. She was supposed to be arranging the night. Instead she fell into rage. He wanted escorts. She wanted validation. He wanted her to manage his fantasy. She wanted to feel real.
“I told him, I’m not Gina or Cassie,” she said. “I’m not a porn star. These experiences are desensitizing.”
Then came the line that made the room go cold. When asked, “Why did you say you were consenting?”
She answered, “I picked up the word from him. He said if anyone saw the videos, they’d say I wanted it.”
Which makes me believe that in that instance alone, he knew that he was doing something wrong. Trying to cover his ass JUST IN CASE.
Why didn't the prosecution lean into that a little bit more? It was a literal statement. If anyone saw the videos, Diddy wanted them to hear her saying yes. He taught her what to say. He told her what the evidence would look like. He coached her on how to make it look consensual, because he knew exactly what he was doing and how to cover it. This wasn’t casual abuse. This was curated abuse. It was insurance.
Even after Homeland Security raided his properties, he kept paying her rent. She confirmed that Diddy not only helped retain her lawyer, but that he was still paying him while she was sitting in court. The financial leash was still on. She told the court she had asked him, had he told the accountant to stop? His reply:
“You make your own money.”
When asked if she believed she had consented, Jane broke. “I’m still trying to figure that out,” she said.
And that was it. That was the moment the courtroom exhaled. Because what they were watching wasn’t a woman testifying about the past. They were watching a woman who was still in it. Still trying to decode the difference between love and leverage. Still trying to survive someone she wasn’t even free from yet.
But this kind of caught me off guard.
She wasn’t just recruiting the male escorts. She was catching feelings for them. Especially one. Sly. Real name Cabral. This wasn’t some one-night hired gun. This was a full-on situationship. While Diddy was busy assigning “entertainment” and prepping the house for freak offs like it was a red carpet event with lube instead of limos. Jane was over here building an emotional connection with one of the escorts. Not just scheduling him. Talking to him about Diddy. Trusting him. Venting to him. Bonding with him. She was running the operation and being the entertainment, all while pretending it was a relationship.
Sly became her safe place. And Diddy, as always, noticed. It didn’t take much to set him off. One night, he spiraled. Accused her of teaming up with Sly. Said she and the escort had something on him. Like maybe the woman he was paying, pimping, and paranoid-monitoring had suddenly turned into a CIA op.
And just like that, he flipped it. Tried to frame her as the coercive one. The manipulator. Like she was some mastermind using emotional blackmail to control the poor innocent mogul who just wanted a relaxing group sex experience.
This is what narcissists do when their control starts slipping though. They don’t get honest. They get paranoid. They start projecting. They start rewriting the script mid-scene.
And speaking of rewriting, this is where the internet took over. Because somewhere buried in Jane’s testimony were hints. References. No names, but enough clues to make people squint. She talked about elite events. Private parties. Big names throwing “competitive” gatherings. Artists trying to outdo each other with who could make the wildest sex circus look effortless.
She didn’t say who. But I did.
It didn’t take long to figure out the rapper whose wife/girlfriend was born in January. Before Kanye West’s name even entered the chat; Influencers, Podcasters, People who know how to read between the lines; we all knew. The connections made themselves. The dots dotted. The Ts crossed. Timing. Context. The exact kind of egomania required to treat a sex party like a Grammy campaign.
SCREAMS, Ye.
It was never just about Diddy. It was about the system he played in. The men he played with. The sick one-upmanship that only billionaires with messiah complexes could turn into a lifestyle brand.
Especially Black men. Who are made to believe they are less than because of their skin color. Never realizing their own people were working to HELP suppress them. That Black Excellence. “These black men from the Ghetto made it, I can too.” Its a design.
And even with all of that, ‘Jane’ stayed. She stayed after the beatings. After the paranoia. After the freak offs and the accusations and the late-night emotional blackmail. She stayed when he told her, “Don’t ruin my night,” then ordered her to do things she said no to. She stayed while he kept paying her rent. While he currently is paying for her lawyer. While he accused her of coercion and then made sure she still had her house key. Because when someone scrambles your brain long enough, survival starts to look like loyalty. Crazy right?!
She even stayed when she said, “You're not my girlfriend. Im single.”
I know we’re not supposed to say it out loud. That we’re not supposed to critique victims. That our job is to believe them, support them, and offer compassion, especially when they find the courage to testify against someone as powerful and protected as Sean Combs. And I do believe her. I believe everything Jane said. I believe she was abused. I believe she was manipulated. I believe she was dragged into a life she didn’t understand until it had already rewired her brain.
But when she stepped down from the stand, I didn’t feel triumphant. I didn’t feel gutted. I felt irritated. And then I felt guilty for feeling that way. Because logically I know how coercive control works. I understand trauma bonding. I’ve studied the way abuse distorts your sense of safety and belonging. But emotionally? I was pissed. It reminded me of my mother! I was at them both in that moment. Pissed that she kept going back. Pissed that she introduced Diddy to more men. Pissed that she played concierge for the freak offs and still texted him that she missed him. Pissed that she was still taking beatings. And it’s not just me. The audience is struggling with this. And that means most likely the jury probably is too.
Because we want our victims clean. We want them weeping. We want them to have cut ties long ago and marched off into the sunset waving restraining orders. We want them to hate their abuser. To never text them again. To never smile in a photo. To never say they missed the good parts.
But that’s not how this works.
In real life, abuse is sticky. It is layered. It confuses the victim and the people watching. It doesn’t make sense until years later, and even then it comes in flashes. And sometimes the same person who hurts you the most is the one who makes you feel like you belong. That doesn’t make them less of a victim. It makes the abuse more effective. Unfortunately.
Jane wasn’t free. Even when she tried to distance herself. Not when she got the house. Not when she picked the “entertainment.” Not when she said she missed him. She was groomed into loyalty. She was rewarded with comfort and punished with violence. Its a blueprint for psychological captivity.
But all by choice. CHOICE.
So yeah, I was irritated. But maybe that’s part of the trap too. Because if you can be manipulated into silence, you can also be manipulated into judging someone who broke free, but not in the way you wanted them to.
We don’t need victims who fit a script. We need to get honest about how trauma plays out when money, status, and fear all share the same bed.
So yes. She brought in escorts. She texted them. She fell for one. She missed Diddy. She said things that made her look complicit. But that’s the point.
This wasn’t clean. It wasn’t cinematic. It was messy and painful and, at times, frustrating as hell. But it was real. And if you’re sitting there asking, “Why didn’t she just leave?”—trust me, I asked the same thing. I still ask it. Even though I know better. Even though I have to stop myself and say, that’s not the question. That’s not what we ask. But the truth is, when someone breaks you the right way, leaving doesn’t feel like an option. It feels like betrayal. It feels like failure. It feels like leaving them will leave you with nothing. And that’s how it works. That’s how they keep you.
But is it enough to send him to jail?
Seal Team 6 for Sex Parties
Brendan Paul: The Blueprint with Gloves On.
Brendan Paul carried the drugs, packed the Astroglide, and got fired over a fanny pack. He took the stand like a man who knew exactly how far he could go without setting the courtroom on fire. And honestly? The fact that this guy was not the government’s lead-off witness is insane. What he gave in three days wasn’t just a peek behind the curtain. He was the curtain.
Recruited through Revolt, Brendan showed up to Diddy’s LA mansion at 200 South Mapleton, got his ID scanned like it was a nightclub, signed an NDA on arrival, and was immediately handed house rules. Rule one: roll joints in the garage. Rule two: do not ask questions.
His job was to keep Mr. Combs happy. What did that look like? Coordinating Wild King nights through the Notes app. Running out to Walmart for freak off supplies. Laying out Astroglide in the bathroom. Cleaning up afterward in gloves.
He said Diddy had him take Tusi, pink cocaine, to test purity. Loyalty measured in grams, not character. He bought weed, ecstasy, and more from dealers named Guido, Babygirl, One Stop, and someone who spells it O-e-i. He was paid in cash from a Gucci bag or through Faheem, Diddy’s security guy. He said Combs would text him "Xans" from the red phone, the drug line. Yellow phone was for business.
For some reason I can't stop thinking of hotline bling…
Brendan was a WireTap Starter Kit in designer sneakers. He admitted to being arrested at a Florida airport with 27 grams of cocaine. His bag. Diddy’s drugs. The prosecution tried to ask. Defense shouted objection. The judge sustained. But we all heard the question. We all saw the face. We all knew the answer.
He also testified he got fired for forgetting to pack Diddy’s Lululemon fanny pack before a walk. Fucking Lululemon. I really have to admit I laughed out loud when I read that.
“I don’t want to see your face anymore. Tell KK you’re fired.” Brendan bought a new fanny pack and laid low. This man was smuggling narcotics, managing sex logistics, taking loyalty hits off pink coke, and still got “axed” over a belt bag. He didnt really get fired. He went out bought daddy a new bag and laid low.
His salary? Seventy-five grand to start. Bumped to one hundred. That’s it. What is up with these billionaires and their f***ing clearance rack budgets? Diddy is out here with more houses than morals and still treating his staff like they’re lucky to be there? You are coordinating sex parties with NDA templates and burner phones, but you can’t book a Delta Comfort seat? Come on!
He was flying escorts out on Spirit Airlines. Spirit. The airline where the pilot Venmos you for gas mid-flight. Women are being trafficked across state lines and still getting charged $38 for gate-checked luggage.
And Uber? Really? You have a security team, multiple mansions, and cash in a Gucci bag, but you’re sending your entertainment to the freak off in a five-star-or-it’s-free rideshare? They were arriving to freak offs like it was an errand. No driver. No tinted SUV. Just surge pricing and a pinned address.
You are allegedly drugging women, filming them, humiliating them but God forbid you get a car service. God forbid you spring for a private jet. This man had a freak off empire with the transportation plan of a college group chat.
It’s honestly impressive. Not the operation. But the audacity. The logistical chaos. The cheapness. The ego. He KNEW EXACTLY what he was doing. The only thing more offensive than what he did is what he refused to pay for while doing it.
I mean Daphne Joy had a love contract. A contract is something that a two parties are both fulfilled in. He was definitely holding up his end of the bargain. She just caught feelings.
He treated her like shit. Yes. But illegal. Nope.
Diddy’s lawyer asked, “You weren’t just a drug mule, were you?” Brendan: “I was not just that.” Minor part of the job, he said. Just a side hustle. Like selling candles on Etsy.
When asked about Jane, he said she was not hesitant. When asked about Diddy? “Creative.” He said drugs made Diddy creative. Because nothing says artistic breakthrough like breaking NDAs with a Cialis bottle and a burner phone. Beethoven had a piano. Diddy had Tusi and a sex schedule.
Brendan said he cared about his reputation. Meanwhile, he was texting Babygirl about pink cocaine and asking if it should go in Puff’s overnight bag.
When asked how he felt about Diddy now? “It’s complicated.”
Is it though? You cleaned up freak offs in gloves. Carried the Astroglide. Took the drugs. Got caught with cocaine. Made less than a pharmaceutical rep in Ohio. Used like a tool, paid like an intern, and still called it complicated?
Sorry Brendan. Avril’s man was complicated. This is not.
This trial has had shocking testimony. But Brendan Paul gave us something better than spectacle. He gave us the operation manual. And the government still treated him like a loose wire instead of the smoking gun. Surprising? Not in the slightest.
You want to understand how this worked? You do not start with the victims. You start with the assistant who rolled joints in the garage and ran point on Tusi orders. The one who knew what night was what color. The one who handled the red phone and said just enough to sketch the empire, then stepped back into the shadows.
He never really left. Neither did KK.
KK: The Ghost in Logistics
KK was not just logistics. She was operations. She coordinated drugs, escorts, scheduling, and silence. She was the nurse. The gatekeeper. The one with access to every phone. She was texting Brendan “Gucci bag active or Wild King mode” like she was toggling outfits, not orchestrating trafficking.
His handler if you will.
And she never testified. There was no immunity deal. No announcement. No explanation. She is not listed. Not called. Not cross-examined. But she is everywhere. Lurking in the shadows with all the secrets. Behind every plan. Every coded message. Every role change. Every silence.
She knows.
And she should have been called. This is not an emotional rant! Ok, maybe it is… but its also about chain of command. If Brendan was taking orders, then someone was giving them. If Brendan was coordinating freak offs, KK was greenlighting them. If Brendan was using gloves, KK told him to.
Not to make it seem like SHE was running shit. It was Dids. She took orders. Dont get it twisted. She allegedly tried to insert IUDs into women before Diddy raped them. Allegedly. But where is she?
I googled. Nothing. I checked TikTok because it always has the answers. Hehe. There, it made sense. She is too close. She knows too much. Clearly. But if the prosecution called her, the entire operation would come into focus. The scale. The infrastructure. The complicity. Obviously theyre not doing that.
The defense would never call her either. She confirms everything. She proves design.
So she disappears. Vanishes from the record. Like Dust in the wind. And that silence? That is not oversight. That is legal protection. It is calculation. I do not believe for one second that KK is irrelevant. She is the connective tissue. She knows who got what. Who cleaned what. Who got pregnant and who disappeared. She helped bury the bodies. She knows where. Her absence is the loudest testimony this jury will not hear.
This trial is full of people pretending not to know. But KK knew. They all did. Brendan just happened to say the quiet part almost out loud. And then they both stepped back into the shadows like nothing happened. Like the house never ran itself.
What Even Is RICO?
The law that turns sex, power, and silence into a criminal enterprise. Let’s break it down. Because if you have been following this trial and still thinking RICO is just something you heard in Sons of Anarchy, well, you are not alone. Most people throw the word around without knowing what it actually means.
RICO stands for Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act. It is a federal law passed in 1970 that was created to take down the mob. The real mob. Mafia bosses who did not personally pull triggers or sell drugs, but who built systems where others did and kept the money flowing.
The power of RICO is that it does not care if you personally committed the crime. It cares if you were part of the machine that made the crime possible.
Under RICO, prosecutors do not have to prove that Diddy personally beat someone or trafficked someone or filmed someone without consent. They only have to prove that he built and maintained an enterprise. Something organized, ongoing, and criminal in nature. And that he committed at least two predicate acts to keep it going.
That is it. Two acts. Two bricks in the foundation. The rest can be structure. Hired help. Loyalty. Silence.
The enterprise could be a company. It could be a crew. It could be a lifestyle brand built on fear, NDAs, and burner phones. If you created something that functions like a corrupt institution and you kept it running with money, control, or intimidation, that is RICO.
And the consequences? Massive.
RICO charges come with mandatory minimums. They can freeze your assets. They can lengthen your sentence. And sometimes, the entire case comes down to whether the jury believes you built a system or just had a bad weekend.
So when people say he is being hit with RICO, understand they are not talking about rumors. They are talking about a network. A quiet machine built out of fear, power, and control.
And if the government proves that Diddy built one? He is not just looking at prison. He is looking at legacy collapse.
What Diddy Was Charged With vs What He Is Actually Facing Now
A quick reality check before the verdict storm.
When this federal case first hit the headlines, the charge list was sprawling. It read like the blueprint of a shadow empire. The prosecution laid out a narrative that included everything from sex trafficking to drug conspiracies, obstruction, and violent assault. All structured around a criminal enterprise that they say Diddy built and ran like a private cartel with a mansion for a boardroom and NDAs as armor.
Here is what Diddy was originally charged with:
Conspiracy to violate the RICO Act.
Sex trafficking and attempted sex trafficking.
Transportation for illegal sexual activity.
Conspiracy to distribute controlled substances.
Obstruction of justice.
Use of threats and violence to silence victims.
Distribution of cocaine, ecstasy, and other narcotics across state lines.
Maintaining an interstate criminal enterprise.
Each of those charges came with enhancements. Involvement of vulnerable victims. Conspiracy across multiple states. The kind of thing that does not just end in prison. It ends in asset forfeiture, permanent reputation annihilation, and a very real chance of decades behind bars.
But after weeks of courtroom argument, evidence issues, and a tense charge conference, not all of those charges made it to the finish line.
Some were dropped. Some were redefined in ways that favor the prosecution. And others, like the obstruction charge tied to official proceedings, were quietly pulled before closing.
Here is what Diddy is now being actively charged with as the jury prepares to deliberate:
One count of RICO conspiracy
Two counts of sex trafficking and attempted sex trafficking (Counts 2 and 4)
Two counts of illegal transportation for sexual activity (Counts 3 and 5)
One count of drug distribution conspiracy (Count 6)
What is gone:
The obstruction of official proceedings charge under 18 U.S.C. § 1512(c)(2)
This was dropped by the government during the charge conference. It will not go to the jury.
Any requirement that victims be commercial sex workers
The prosecution clarified that under the law, victims can be coerced into travel for sex acts without working in the sex trade.
Any requirement that a sex act be completed
The judge ruled that intent and attempt are sufficient. Consent does not require performance. It only requires proof that the machinery was in motion.
What remains is still devastating. And because of the way the jury instructions were finalized, the bar for conviction may actually be lower than most people realize. This is no longer about proving what happened in every hotel room. This is about proving that Diddy built a structure, recruited people into it, and used that structure to traffic and control.
And if the jury believes that? It only takes one act.
The Fight to Frame the Facts
Inside the legal knife fight over jury instructions.
After weeks of freak offs, burner phones, Astroglide wipe-downs, and victims trying to explain how consent sounds when it’s been rehearsed into survival, the trial shifted. The performances ended. The chaos calmed. And what happened today wasn’t about sex or violence or surveillance.
It was about grammar.
We entered the phase of the trial where everyone pretends this is just a clean legal process, when in reality it is a full-blown battle for how the jury will be allowed to think. A linguistic tug-of-war. A surgical edit of reality. It is where the lawyers put on their quiet voices and their reading glasses and start arguing over the difference between “knew” and “should have known,” like someone's freedom isn’t hanging in the balance.
Welcome to the jury charge conference. Where justice gets spellchecked.
This is the moment where both sides stop talking about what happened and start fighting over what it’s allowed to mean. Because the truth doesn’t matter if the jury is instructed to ignore it. And lies don’t matter if they’re framed just right. Right?!
Today, they fought over what counts as a RICO enterprise. Whether a victim has to be a sex worker to qualify as trafficked. Whether an attempted sex act can land someone in prison for fifteen years. Whether someone can be convicted for willful blindness; looking away on purpose while the abuse unfolds right in front of them.
And it wasn’t just technical. It was tense. Every line mattered. Every word was a loaded weapon. The prosecution came in sharp and calculated. The defense came in flailing and tired. The judge was done playing referee. He was editing in real time, ruling from the bench, cutting the fluff and keeping the power.
The jury wasn't in the room for any of this. But their future was being outlined for them, word by word, with precision and surgical speed.
This wasn’t closing argument theater. This was the part no one sees. The part that decides everything. Because in this courtroom, the story only matters if the jury is allowed to read it.
Rule 29 and the Core of the Enterprise
The motion that failed, and the moment that defined the case.
Before the lawyers even touched the final language of the jury charge, the defense tried to end the whole thing with one last swing. It was called a Rule 29 motion, and it is the legal version of pulling the fire alarm when your house is already half burned down.
Under Rule 29, the defense argues that even if everything the government said is true, the case still does not add up to a crime. It is not about witnesses lying. It is not about the jury making a bad call. It is about whether the law supports the charge at all. If the judge agrees, he can take the whole thing away from the jury and toss the case out on legal grounds.
It almost never works though. It is standard. And it is mostly about preserving the record for appeal. But they did it anyway.
The judge denied it. Because this case is going to the jury. And that is where the next fight began.
The government and defense started dissecting the heart of the RICO charge. The enterprise. What makes it real. What makes it criminal. What makes it function.
The prosecution argued that the faces could change. That the person in the role did not matter, so long as the role remained. D-roc was head of security at the start. Faheem took over later. Same job. Same system. Different name on the jacket.
The defense tried to flip that. They claimed that if the people changed, the core was broken. That you cannot have a long-term criminal enterprise if the staff rotates like a service industry schedule.
And that is when Judge Subramanian delivered the line of the day, Hes goes, “People are not core.” That was it. Four words that cut the air in half. Because what he was saying was this:
The enterprise is not about who holds the title. It is about whether the title exists at all. It is not about whether one specific person carried the bag. It is about whether someone always did. If the machine kept running, the parts are interchangeable.
You do not need the same driver. You need a wheel that always turns. It was brutal but clarifying. And it signaled that this judge was not going to let the defense collapse the entire structure just because someone swapped out staff during the freak offs. He's been no nonsense in the beginning. I actually was pretty thoroughly impressed with the judge.
This was not Build-A-Bear RICO though. You do not get to reset the crime because you changed the clothes. But the defense was not done. They tried to challenge the language around conspiracy knowledge. They argued that someone like Ms. Khorram could not be guilty if she did not know what was happening in every hotel room or private text. The government fired back that conspirators do not need to know every member of the enterprise. They just need to know they were furthering it. Judge Subramanian agreed with the government. He had already edited the charge using language from the Sands treatise, a go-to federal legal source. He was not changing it again.
The defense made one more push. They wanted the judge to add a line that jurors should consider a defendant’s actions, not just their knowledge or communication. The judge denied that too. He said they could make that point in closing. But the language was staying where it was.
Intent Alone Can Get You Fifteen
The defense came in arguing this case was missing something. They said the government never proved the act. But the government did not need that.
The judge told them directly. For Counts Two and Four, sex trafficking does not require completion. It does not require physical proof. It does not require a victim to say the words out loud.
All it requires is that someone used power to move someone else toward a sex act. That they intended for it to happen. That they used coercion or control to get them there. That they planned it, pushed it, or expected it.
That is trafficking. And that gets you fifteen years. Not because it ended in bruises. But because someone in power decided they had the right to use someone else's body like it was part of the itinerary. Because manipulation works best when it looks like an invitation. Because the plan was already in motion before the victim ever said yes. PLAIN AND SIMPLE. The law does not need a climax. It needs intent. It needs movement. It needs someone with power pulling the strings and someone else being pulled.
You do not need a rape kit. You do not need a recording. You need a man who thought he could script desire and call it consent. That is what the government is arguing. That is what the jury will be told. And if they see it, even once, that is enough. So, again. My time served Theory might not pan out. Homeboy might literally be going to jail. For a minute.
The defense said this was not what they were told. They pointed to the indictment. They said the government used explicit language, said they would prove the act, said they would show it happened. They said that is why Diddy was detained in the first place.
And now none of it matters. The judge ruled. I definitely see Diddy suing. The instruction stayed. The jury will be told that an attempt is enough.
That changes everything.
It takes pressure off the prosecution. They no longer have to prove what happened behind a locked door. They only have to point to movement.
Who cares how these women felt. They were THERE…
It gives the jury room to convict without knowing every detail. Without needing to believe Diddy crossed the line. They only need to believe the line was drawn and someone was pushed toward it… HUGE.
It protects the charge from collapsing. It makes it more likely to hold up on appeal. It shows that the government came in prepared for a case where the facts were fragmented, but the pattern was clear. Which Ive stated. “They have done a good job at establishing a pattern. Is it enough?”
Well, it might be.
So now the jury will not be asked what happened in the room. They will be asked what was set in motion. That is what the case has become. They do not have to believe it went all the way. They do not have to know every detail. They only have to believe that the goal was clear. If they believe that, the sentence is locked. Fifteen years. No debate. That is the new bar.
Which is NOT what I predicted. At all.
The Illusion of Willingness
How the defense used the tapes, and how the women stayed anyway.
The defense leaned hard into the moments that made the women look like they were in control. In Daphines sitch, she was. They were not shy about it. They rolled long stretches of freak off footage. Showed where they called the men. When they lost their mind and threw glasses at him. They wanted the jury to sit with it. To watch Cassie move through the scene, speak calmly, respond to direction. See the messages. “I wanna make my pop pop proud!” They wanted jurors to forget the context. Forget the drugs. Forget the power imbalance.
Then they pulled the texts. Messages where Cassie said she bought baby oil. That she was proud of herself. That she and Diddy “did good.” The defense treated that line like it was the cornerstone of their case. They used it to imply satisfaction. Like she was doing this on her terms. Like she had agency.
Did she?
And then there was Jane Doe. She told the court that sex was sacred to her. That she tried to draw the line. That she told Diddy she did not want to be used anymore. That she was trying to cut ties. His response? Call me when you are ready for a freak off.
That was it. No context. No care. No concern. Just the offer. Just the command.
And she did. She reached back out. She cracked the door. She softened after something happened with his mother. We never got the full detail. Only that it made her feel something. Enough to respond. Enough to try again.
The defense used that too. As they should??? Man, I go back and forth. Its not just the outreach. Or pattern. Its the whole loop. Leave. Come back. Cry. Apologize. Return. They framed it as proof that Diddy was not holding anyone against their will. That they stayed because they wanted to. That these were grown women making grown decisions.
And this is where I get stuck. Because yes, they had a choice. Technically. They could have walked away. They were not chained to the bed. They had phones. They had money. They had followers. But at the same time, they didn’t. Not really. Because when you are that deep in it, when your self-worth is being managed by someone else, when your fear has been replaced with loyalty, and your memory is playing tricks on you. Leaving feels like betrayal. Staying feels like survival. And honestly? I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about that. I believe them. But I’m angry too. And maybe that’s part of it. Maybe that’s what this kind of control is built to do. Confuse you. Even when you’re the one watching.
This was conditioning. They said they were proud because they needed to survive the night. They reached out because they were still hooked on the version of him that apologized sometimes. They came back because they were told they were free, but trained to believe that walking away meant losing everything. Money. Stability. Safety. Meaning.
But the defense kept holding up these moments like trophies. They kept replaying the footage. They kept reading the texts. They wanted the jury to equate participation with permission. They wanted the whole room to pretend that these women were happy because they smiled once. Because they sent a goodnight message. Because they said “we did good.”
They were not doing good. They were being good. Thats difference. The prosecution could have hit harder on this. They let a lot of these contradictions hang in the air without pushing back. They chose not to walk the jury through how trauma makes people say thank you after abuse. How love can be used to trap. How pride can be performed to avoid punishment.
So now it is hanging in the balance. The jury has to decide what that baby oil text meant. What “call me when you’re ready” really sounded like. What kind of man offers sex parties after goodbye texts. And what kind of woman says yes, even when she means no.
And whether that yes should count.
She Doesn’t Have to Be a Sex Worker
The defense tried it. Again. Tried to shrink the charge. Tried to get the jury to picture prostitutes and professionals. Women with rates and clients and paperwork. They wanted to make trafficking look like a job description.
But these were his girls. His side chics. His mains.
Counts Three and Five are about transporting someone across state lines for sex. If that sex is coerced, manipulated, or tied to any kind of power imbalance, it is illegal. Full stop.
The government made it clear. You do not have to be a sex worker to be trafficked. You just have to be moved like property. Like, fucking duh. But ok….I get it. We have to be clear as glass.
The judge agreed and rewrote the instructions. Now the jury will be told that a victim does not need to be paid or registered or working the circuit. She does not even have to know it is happening. I think that's huge.
So, let’s talk about who that actually describes, though. Jane Doe was not working. She was spiraling. She lived in the house. She tried to pay her rent. He reimbursed it. She helped plan the nights. She texted the men. She pretended it was fine. She tried to call it love. She had a full-on relationship with one of these male escorts. To the point where Diddy thought they were in cahoots.
Cassie traveled with Diddy for shows, vacations, business. Being filmed while high and unaware. She said she was proud of them. That she and Diddy “did good.” That is what trauma can make you say when the abuse feels like routine. She was not a sex worker though. She was the main girl. Which made her more controlled, not less. In a weird ass way.
Brianna said she traveled with him too. Not for sex. For presence. For power balance. She was paid to be around. Not to perform. But she still described being threatened. Being hurt. Being told what to wear, where to go, how to act. That is not sex work. That is ownership with makeup on. Even if she was high on ketamine for 8 hours.
This charge is not about whether a woman had a rate sheet. It is about whether she was used. Moved. Told to show up and stay quiet. Whether her body was on someone else's schedule.
The government even cited the R. Kelly ruling. That coerced sex can count as labor. That you do not have to be for sale to be forced.
The judge agreed. And now the jury has the rule in writing.
They do not need to imagine prostitutes getting off a jet. They only need to remember the women who already testified. Even if they can't comprehend the fact that they stuck around. That they weren't hostages. They were the ones who said yes because they were trained to. The ones who packed the bag because they knew what happened if they didn’t. The ones who smiled in the video because they were not allowed to scream.
You do not have to sell it to be trafficked.
You just have to be owned long enough to forget the difference, apparently.
Is One Act is Enough?
This jury has a lot to sort through. Multiple counts. Multiple women. Years of timelines stacked on top of each other like broken floorboards. They are not being asked to solve the whole thing. They are being asked to do something more precise. More dangerous. They are being asked to decide what counts.
That is why Judge Subramanian stepped in during the charge conference and said what the defense clearly needed to hear — “Let’s not cloud the jury.” No more distractions. No more stunts. Just call the thing what it is and stop trying to drag in smoke.
And honestly, it was overdue. Because legal gymnastics is exactly what this defense has been doing from the start. The defense has been flipping harder than Simone Biles in Tokyo. Except she stuck the landing. They didn’t. TMZ even floated that Diddy’s team might reference Iran in their closing argument. As in, worry about global conflict, not the fact that your client had women being transported, recorded, and broken down over baby oil and text message. You cannot make this up. Foreign policy deflection in a sex trafficking case. If you are reaching that far, you have already lost the jury.
For Counts Two through Five, the jury does not have to agree on every single detail. They do not need to name which night. Which text. Which woman. They just need to agree that one of the acts described meets the legal definition of trafficking or illegal transportation. Not all of them. One.
That is all it takes
The defense wants chaos. They want confusion. They want contradictions to cancel out testimony. If Brianna came back, it means she was fine. If Jane reached out, it means she was in control. If Cassie did one freak off sober, it means she must have wanted it. They want the jury to believe abuse only counts when it is clean and obvious and recorded in a single frame.
But the law already accounts for mess. It does not need every fact to line up like a movie script. It just needs one truth that holds.
The government knows this. That is why they dropped the noise. They cut what was shaky and sharpened what was solid. They are betting it all on the moments that stuck. The strongest charges. The clearest story. The women who said just enough. The system that exposed itself.
And outside the courtroom, everyone is spinning. Influencers are live streaming jury speculation like it is reality TV. One post calls it a mistrial waiting to happen. Another is quoting Bible verses under Cassie’s photos. People are tired. People are guessing. Everyone wants the twist.
But there is no twist. There is testimony. There is intent. There is movement. There is power.
And now the jury knows. It only takes one.
One trip that was not about freedom. One night that was not about pleasure. One, that came with pressure. If they find that moment — and there are many — this thing is over.
Is Diddys cooked?
Thank you guys so much for reading I know this is super long but I haven't given an update, and ARP Style update, in a hot min.
I'll be recording with Alexis soon!
My husband always told me I should feel good about myself because he married me.
No beatings no cohesion anything criminal at all.,not even remotely. Just a man that made a good living and took care of his family.
It was funny because he thought I should feel good about that comment.
I understand these women to some extent
Diddy is a bad bad bad man. He should go to jail.