I Watched the Diddy Trial From the Courtroom. Then I Watched It on YouTube. Whoa.

Yahoo

10-06-2025

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Despite the very serious subject matter at hand, attending the Diddy trial in lower Manhattan can feel a bit like begging for entry into 'New York's hottest club.' A long entry line to the courthouse forms the day before, containing a Mad Libs of New York reporters and rabble-rousers, lawyers and lower-ranked celebrities. The competition for a coveted seat in the courtroom is incredibly stiff—there is even a daily fight between company-employed line holders and 'independent' line holders to save spots for pay. And in particular, one specific fault line is emerging outside the courthouse: between the tried-and-true journalists and those who make so-called new media—your YouTubers, TikTokkers, and livestreamers. And, make no mistake, new media are dominating the space.
We all know that the media landscape is in a constant state of flux, but the trial of United States v. Sean Combs is one of these moments that should be understood as a marker in this metamorphosis. The Diddy trial has been full of nonstop drama: from constant bickering between the legal teams to outbursts and altercations inside and outside the courthouse, all peppering a constant stream of utterly shocking testimonies. But the people you're more likely to hear it from aren't legacy media publications but content creators and influencers. They line up every day, early, just like the rest of us, and take notes, just like the rest of us, but there's a distinct tension between how they present the trial and how we do.
The ne plus ultra of new-media trial coverage is Stephanie Soo, a YouTuber and podcaster who got her start making mukbang videos but hit her stride when she pivoted to true crime on her video podcast Rotten Mango. These days, over 5 million YouTube subscribers tune in to watch Soo explain in great detail, for one or two hours, a real true-crime case, including the Combs trial—an amount big enough that Soo has unseated Joe Rogan as the top podcast on YouTube. I can understand why people like it: The videos are smartly crafted, with Soo explaining the case to a male voice off-screen who sometimes chimes in to ask follow-up questions (and is widely understood to be her husband, whose identity she keeps veiled). Soo's coverage of the trial is thorough. She reads official court transcripts while displaying segments on the screen as visual aids and does a great job at explaining legalese, like the reason why Casandra Ventura's husband, Alex Fine, had to be removed from the courtroom for a part of her testimony.
It's not as if traditional broadcast media isn't its own sort of performance, but for new media, the relay of the news is more about the explicit creation of entertainment than it is a way to courier information, and Soo is no exception. When the trial first started, Soo came under fire from seemingly the entire internet for posting a video of her twirling in front of the courthouse while eating a PB&J. (The accusation was that she wasn't taking the trial seriously.) This then sparked a larger conversation about how she had ended up with a press badge in the first place, given her 'giddy' tone and the accusation that she is not a 'real' journalist. (Soo suggested in one video that Combs himself mouthed 'I know you' to her in court, though she added that he could have been talking to someone else.) While there's no universal answer to how we label journalists anymore, it certainly feels as if Soo has crossed some lines in how she has represented the case, for example in 'reenacting' portions of star witness and Combs ex Ventura's testimony. Soo overacts and injects emotion despite acknowledging, in a more recent video, that 'most of the time' the witness did 'not convey a lot of emotions.' Understanding that the disaffected tone Ventura used during her testimony was likely intentional (I listened in real time—there are no recordings or video that come out of the court), I found Soo's overplayed dramatics while reading Ventura's words to be insensitive at best, discoloring what is usually a fairly good recap of events.
This 'performance' often extends beyond just the reenactment of testimony, sometimes taking over creators' entire vocal affect. Many of the trial's daily creators are YouTubers whose main coverage tack is conducting livestreams after the day's proceedings, sometimes right outside the courthouse. The videos of Tisa Tells, a Black news YouTuber who livestreams daily rundowns of the trial, come off as heightened and chaotic. She often streams from the center of whatever new chaos is unfolding outside the courthouse, so I understand how easy it is to make these reports seem breathless, and audiences certainly respond to the heightened energy. But I think it gives a sensationalized view of the whole ordeal, even though Tisa's lives stick mostly to what was actually said in the courtroom. Watching her feels as if you're on a video call with your charismatic friend reenacting the trial's biggest moments—coverage not really analogous to a news report.
The real sauce of new media comes with their ability to ride the line between impartial recounts of who said what, with pointedly biased commentary on how they personally feel about it. Still, unlike the equally infamous trial between Johnny Depp and Amber Heard, in which streamers' portrayal seemed to have taken a pro-Depp side and influenced the perception of the trial, in the Diddy case, the streamers are not pointedly swaying audiences to side one way or another. In fact, watching the content of new-media stars that I personally see in the courthouse, I was surprised by how concerned these creators seemed, not with whether Diddy is guilty but with how well the prosecution or defense is doing in laying out their arguments one way or another. They're assessing the case with the color that we, legacy media, can't always be so candid about. They explain the day's proceedings the way I would to my mother—not my editor. And that's the draw.
Here's an example: During her recap of a testimony from a former employee of Combs to whom the prosecution offered immunity, Tisa said his 'vibes were off.' I absolutely felt this myself but couldn't quite figure out how to express it in print—because the precise ways in which said vibes were off are my own speculation, rather than confirmed facts. (In retrospect, maybe the best way is to say that he seemed strangely indebted to his former employer Combs.) Tisa's reenactments, commentary, and energy earned her a comment from a viewer who dubbed her 'the new and improved Wendy Williams,' signaling a changing future for even legacy gossips and talk show hosts.
I often find myself agreeing with many of the new media, even if I'm also confused by their tone or editing style. YouTuber Make It Make Sense, who goes by Mims, gives lengthy recaps with commentary (at times analyzing the events and coming to the same conclusion as me), all while demonstrating an astute knowledge of the other extra players in the stories. He uses memes to emphasize his skepticism and shock at some of the witnesses' claims and certain legal tactics. For my money, the most entertaining and impartial of the creators I would see at the courthouse daily is Armon Wiggins, who reads testimonial quotes like you would read a passage aloud in a classroom and doesn't refrain in between from providing his commentary on how the legal teams are doing. This is in addition to his comedic full-body reenactments of the lighter-hearted scenarios that a witness merely describes, like Kid Cudi's referring to Combs as a 'Marvel supervillain.'
There is one creator who might be pushing a biased narrative in this trial: Myron Gaines, known for his content under the name Fresh & Fit. Gaines is a popular manosphere personality with a controversial background working in Homeland Security, and his regular content often involves telling men to deprioritize women and telling women to devalue themselves. Gaines—who, fun fact, wrote a book titled Why Women Deserve Less (rated 4.8/5 stars on Amazon, with over 2,500 reviews)—often emphasizes on the sexually explicit texts Ventura sent that are in evidence and throws shade on her claims that she would rather trade the millions of dollars she legally won to get her agency back. He further describes the defense's cross-examination of her as 'slowly dragging her for being a whore.' But even his coverage, though near-manic at times and full of snide remarks regarding Ventura's testimony, also concerns itself with how well the legal teams are doing—it is no Depp/Heard situation.
Often, the personas on display in the content are far from how these creators present in real life. Soo is reserved; Tisa is one of the kindest people you'll meet in the courthouse. Everyone remarks on the difference between talking to Gaines in person, during which he is reserved to the point of coming across as introverted—Soo called him 'meek' in one of her videos—versus watching his content online.
Why is this trial so different from what spun out from the Heard/Depp trial? I think the leaked CNN video of Combs' assaulting Ventura (and his later public apology for it) has already made it clear that Combs has done some awful things. Now the question is centered more on if the prosecution can prove that Combs did awful things in the specifically criminal way it says he did. Hence the focus on the legal teams' competence.
You know what also helps these new0media creators? A strong flow of cash. Soo is always the first person in line, getting the best seat in the house to view the proceedings, and taking one of the coveted 21 spots for her assistant as well. That's because, in a recent video, Soo stated that her team is spending more than '$1,000 a day to have line sitters just to make sure we get into that main courtroom.' She noted that she is paying this much because she knows that members of legacy media also have the money to spend on line sitters. That's true, in some but certainly not all (or even most) circumstances. But it's also the case that in this trial, there's one line for everyone that is eventually separated into media and nonmedia lines, whereas in other trials—like New York state's Donald Trump trial—legacy media is cleared through an entirely separate process and doesn't have to wait at all once they've secured their spot. For Soo, it wouldn't matter, anyway: She sits at the front of media line with her press credentials every day.
The federal court seems to be trying to decide how to deal with this new pecking order. The new media has displayed a willingness to break the rules for views: Last week, an unnamed YouTuber was banned from the court for revealing the identity of a federally protected anonymous witness. Tisa told of when she tried to talk to Kid Cudi after his testimony but was harshly shut down by court marshals. Even the new media themselves seem confused about their designation and what to do with it. Soo told her audience that she was wondering 'why was Fresh & Fit Myron in the courtrooms,' given his misogynistic online performance—without realizing that they essentially have the same job.
And this new social order isn't limited to what happens inside the courthouse; it applies to what happens outside it, a shift that new media have turned into their own story. Every day, people stand outside the courthouse, making TikToks and recording those waiting in line to get inside. At one point, infamous New York content creator CrackheadBarneyandFriends accosted Gaines outside the building and lambasted him for his misogyny (while herself saying questionable things about Sudanese people). Soo has spent significant time detailing her encounters in line—which she does eventually get in herself, relieving her line holder closer to when the courthouse opens—with some of the mentally ill and/or combative people often found milling around the courthouse, as well as weird interactions with self-proclaimed fans. SecretServiceSam, a TikTok comedian who has also been reporting on the case and the trial for a long time, is often the first to report news, because he interviews people who have gotten ejected from the courthouse, as well as other faces on the outskirts of the action. In other words, no matter what happens inside, these new faces are likely not going away—they're just becoming another part of the circus, toeing the line between redefining news and feeding their audiences' insatiable appetite for drama.