Why Diddy Is Celebrating His Guilty Verdict

The Atlantic

02-07-2025

Less than two years ago, the public image of Sean 'Diddy' Combs started to shift from playboy to villain: to the raging boyfriend caught beating Cassie Ventura on a hotel camera; the alleged criminal kingpin facing federal prosecution; the mastermind of an elite sex cult, according to online conspiracy theorists. He was broadly painted as (and assiduously denied being) the sort of man who used money and power to pursue his desires no matter the harm to those around him. Now that a verdict has been rendered in his case, expect another reputational shift—a redemption story, unearned though it may be.
After a seven-week trial in a Manhattan federal courthouse, the music mogul has been convicted of two charges of transportation to engage in prostitution. These are serious offenses that together carry possible sentences of up to 20 years in prison. But they are less grave than the other crimes he was acquitted of—two counts of sex trafficking, and one count of racketeering—which each could have brought a life sentence. Combs had pleaded not guilty to all of the charges against him, and his family cheered in court after the verdict was read. 'Mr. Combs has been given his life by this jury,' his lawyer Marc Agnifilo said in court.
The saga began in November 2023 when the singer Cassie Ventura filed a lawsuit against Combs, the producer and rapper known for both hits such as 'It's All About the Benjamins' and business endeavors such as Bad Boy Records. Ventura, who signed to his label as a young woman and then dated him, alleged that he'd abused and manipulated her for years. She said he'd repeatedly pressured her to participate in 'freak-offs': orgies involving sex workers and drug use that sometimes lasted for days. Combs settled the lawsuit after one day for a reported $20 million. But many of its details were central to the federal case, which was filed in September 2024.
During the trial, prosecutors alleged that Combs had used intimidation, violence, blackmail, and drugs to coerce Ventura and another ex-girlfriend, identified as Jane, to perform sexually. An assistant, identified as Mia, testified that Combs had repeatedly sexually assaulted her. Combs's defense highlighted text messages and other bits of evidence that suggested these women were actually willing participants in his lifestyle, and raised suspicion about the fact that these alleged victims continued their relationships with the rapper even after alleged instances of abuse. The two sex-trafficking charges against Combs hinged on the thorny question of what consent means within the context of a relationship in which a man alternately hurts a woman and lavishes her with affection and gifts. On the stand, Jane said that she loved Combs to this day.
But the case was not only about consent. Federal lawyers also pursued a charge of racketeering conspiracy, an allegation traditionally affiliated with Mafia prosecutions. They alleged that Combs used his employees to help him procure sex workers and secure drugs for freak-offs, as well as to commit arson (the burning of a car owned by the rapper Kid Cudi after he became involved with Ventura) and kidnapping (an assistant alleged that Combs and his team repeatedly detained her against her will). Combs's lawyers denied many of the granular allegations—Combs was not involved in any arson and didn't kidnap anyone, they said—while portraying the broader racketeering charge as preposterous. Combs, they insisted, ran a legitimate business empire, not a criminal syndicate.
Now that Combs has been acquitted of all but the most cut-and-dry charges—transporting people across state lines for the purposes of prostitution—the obvious question to ask is whether prosecutors overreached. The RICO statute allowed prosecutors to sweep a variety of smaller alleged infractions—such as bribery and drug possession with intent to distribute—into one flashy, sprawling charge that carried a potential life sentence. But the underlying law is a complex one that requires the jury to think that at least two people had agreed to commit at least two crimes. A conviction necessitates a belief of guilt beyond a reasonable doubt—and the defense worked, at every turn, to sow doubt.
But the conversation about the case isn't likely to focus on technical matters for very long. Popular culture loves martyrs; it loves comeback stories; frankly, it loves men. In our current broligarchic era, plenty of guys who were culturally shunned during the #MeToo movement are returning to prominence while being cheered as avenging underdogs. In court, Combs's lawyers primed him to be thought of in just this manner, arguing that he was a successful guy who'd found himself victimized by bitter, money-grubbing exes. Race will likely offer another lens through which Combs's supporters will undermine the validity of his conviction. At the beginning of the trial, his lawyers moved to dismiss the prostitution charges of which Combs is now guilty by citing the fact that the underlying law has racist origins. Now you can expect any commentators whose agenda it suits to rally around Combs as a man, and specifically a Black man, enduring persecution.
Our legal system is certainly tarnished and faulty, and criminal court has never been a reliable venue of justice for women who say they were victimized by powerful men. But even as Combs and his supporters celebrate, the disturbing implications of his case grow. Dozens of civil lawsuits by people who have accused him of a variety of offenses are still pending (he denies culpability in all of them). And the tape of Combs beating Ventura in a hotel hallway in 2016 remains, as one of his own lawyers put it, 'indefensible.' Yet a defense is no doubt on its way.