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Winnipeg Free Press
5 days ago
- Winnipeg Free Press
A group of Catholics revitalized a remote Arizona village before the diocese ordered them to leave
CONCHO, Ariz. (AP) — The village of Concho in the Arizona high desert is home to about 50 people — barely a dot in a sprawling, dusty landscape speckled with clumps of grass, scrub oak and juniper. Concho, about 200 miles northeast of Phoenix, has one restaurant, a Dollar General and a gas station that closes at 7 p.m. But this remote hamlet is now at the center of a Catholic Church controversy. Over the last six months, several members of this tight-knit community have been speaking up in support of a lay group of young Catholics who call themselves the League of the Blessed Sacrament. They say the group has revitalized this ignored, poverty-stricken region. However, leaders at the New Mexico-based Diocese of Gallup, which oversees the region, contend that group members misrepresented themselves as a religious order and engaged in activity not sanctioned by the Catholic Church. Bishop James S. Wall ordered the group to leave parish housing and stop leading liturgy and teaching in the region's Catholic school. Group members — Giovanni Vizcarra, Edward Seeley, Eric Faris, Anthony Ribaya and Lisa Hezmalhalch — maintain they have represented themselves truthfully and followed the diocese's orders. They believe the diocese, the poorest in the nation, asked them to leave because leaders are worried about potential liability stemming from the group taking three boys, victims of alleged domestic abuse, into their care. Diocese spokesperson Suzanne Hammons said Wall and the diocese are 'not afraid of liability' and are accustomed to dealing with sensitive situations in their parishes and schools. The diocese has a duty to properly investigate all allegations and go through official channels to ensure everyone's safety, she said. Why the group came to Concho The men arrived in Concho about four years ago from the Canons Regular of Immaculate Conception, an Augustinian community in Santa Paula, California, after accusing their superior of abuse and inappropriate behavior. They were dismissed a month later, after an investigation by the order's leaders in Rome concluded there was no evidence supporting those allegations. Vizcarra said a sympathetic priest bought them plane tickets to Arizona, suggesting they take time to ponder their future. Concho was different from Los Angeles, where hundreds attended Mass on Sundays. They initially found the small community's intimacy uncomfortable. 'People would ask you what your favorite color is or what your favorite cake is,' Vizcarra said. The ladies would call him 'mijo,' a Spanish term of endearment that means 'my son.' Gradually, the sense of community became a healing salve and they learned to embrace it, he said. Group revitalized struggling parish and community More than two dozen residents from Concho and surrounding towns spoke passionately in support of the League of the Blessed Sacrament, saying the newcomers revitalized the community and parish. They've distributed food to the needy, hosted birthday parties for children whose families had nothing, breathed life into the village church with holy music and liturgy, and revived Concho's historic Christmas fiesta that had recently floundered. Angela Murphy, a longtime resident and local historian, said the men prayed at the church seven times a day. 'It was because of them that we heard church bells in Concho once again,' she said. After they were dismissed from their religious community, the group stopped wearing their habits and requested community members not address them as 'brothers' or 'sister.' But people still would out of reverence, Murphy said. Group members now wear black outfits, including sweatshirts bearing the logo of their organization, which Vizcarra said they founded years ago as seminarians in California. In their four years in Concho, they started an animal farm, a thrift store, a Catholic bookstore, a farmer's market and a coffee shop. The stores and a radio station, which the group purchased rights to, are in the heart of Concho. Vizcarra said they paid for projects with their teaching salaries, fundraising and donations from family members. The group's work with children They taught at St. Anthony's Catholic School in Show Low, a nearby town, until the diocese fired them in February. Vizcarra taught religion, Spanish and robotics; Seeley, math and religion; Faris, art; Ribaya, music. Hezmalhalch taught first grade. They all taught catechism as well. Several families shared stories of troubled or academically struggling children flourishing under their tutelage. Students who showed no interest in religion wanted to be baptized and confirmed after attending catechism, they said. The men also cared for three boys who came from troubled homes, including two brothers. With permission of the boys' mothers, they helped house the children with a local resident who opened up her rental unit. One boy's mother, Katherine Therese Heal, who shares custody of her son with Vizcarra, said the men have been strong role models for her son as she was divorcing his stepfather. She said her son, now 14, was depressed, had low self-esteem and loathed school. 'Now, he wants to go to college,' Heal said. 'What the brothers have done with him is miraculous. They have been the answer to my prayers.' Vizcarra said he and his colleagues initially balked at assuming parental roles. 'We felt these children needed normal families and we're not parents or dads,' he said. That reluctance eased when Heal's son responded with joyful tears when asked if he wanted to be under their care. Heal confirmed that Vizcarra and the men had begun the process to adopt her son. 'While it feels strange because none of us signed up to be a parent, we believe this is a way God has shown us to help people in dire need,' Vizcarra said. Community demands answers Hope MacMonagle, a Concho native, said the group has done 'more for our Catholic community in three years than the diocese has done in decades.' 'When the brothers came here, it was like a breath of fresh air,' she said. 'I'm a cradle Catholic and I love my religion. But when they got here, it was like I was learning my religion all over again.' MacMonagle said she and others have asked the diocese why this group was told to leave. They have been met with silence, she said. 'Sometimes, I get the feeling that people don't listen to us because we are small, insignificant, just a few people in the middle of nowhere,' she said. The group also was known in surrounding towns, such as Show Low, St. Johns and Snowflake. John and Ann Bunn, Show Low residents, met them at St. Rita's parish. She said the group did not 'entrench' themselves in the community. 'They were, rather, embraced by the people here because of their good deeds and the enormous amount of goodwill they've built here,' John Bunn said. Longtime Concho resident Christine Bennett became emotional ticking through the answers she is demanding from the diocese. 'We just want to know why,' she said. 'We see all that they've done to light up this community. Now, they're being ripped out of our parish and our hearts. Why is this happening?' Hammons said the diocese has not responded to residents because 'the answers to these questions are not appropriate to air publicly.' The way forward Last month, the group moved to Vernon, about 25 miles (40 kilometers) south of Concho. They've started a K-12 Catholic school. They are moving the farm animals as well but will maintain a presence in Concho with their shops and radio station. Despite the struggle for acceptance from the diocese, group members said they've received the healing they sought in Concho through their community service. But it still hurts and 'wasn't supposed to be this way,' said Faris, a Protestant minister who converted to Catholicism and wanted to become a priest. 'But God has provided us a way to be more holy and in a way, more conformed to him.' Faris and others say they still feel called to be priests, but are unsure if that will happen. Sundays Kevin Rollason's Sunday newsletter honouring and remembering lives well-lived in Manitoba. Seeley said he is focusing on service and prayer. All members say they are keeping up their vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Ribaya said he will never 'sacrifice truth and justice for the sake of being a priest.' 'If God wants us to be priests, he'll make it happen,' he said. 'If it has to take 30 or 40 years, so be it.' ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
Hamilton Spectator
5 days ago
- Hamilton Spectator
A group of Catholics revitalized a remote Arizona village before the diocese ordered them to leave
CONCHO, Ariz. (AP) — The village of Concho in the Arizona high desert is home to about 50 people — barely a dot in a sprawling, dusty landscape speckled with clumps of grass, scrub oak and juniper. Concho, about 200 miles northeast of Phoenix, has one restaurant, a Dollar General and a gas station that closes at 7 p.m. But this remote hamlet is now at the center of a Catholic Church controversy. Over the last six months, several members of this tight-knit community have been speaking up in support of a lay group of young Catholics who call themselves the League of the Blessed Sacrament . They say the group has revitalized this ignored, poverty-stricken region. However, leaders at the New Mexico-based Diocese of Gallup , which oversees the region, contend that group members misrepresented themselves as a religious order and engaged in activity not sanctioned by the Catholic Church. Bishop James S. Wall ordered the group to leave parish housing and stop leading liturgy and teaching in the region's Catholic school. Group members — Giovanni Vizcarra, Edward Seeley, Eric Faris, Anthony Ribaya and Lisa Hezmalhalch — maintain they have represented themselves truthfully and followed the diocese's orders. They believe the diocese, the poorest in the nation, asked them to leave because leaders are worried about potential liability stemming from the group taking three boys, victims of alleged domestic abuse, into their care. Diocese spokesperson Suzanne Hammons said Wall and the diocese are 'not afraid of liability' and are accustomed to dealing with sensitive situations in their parishes and schools. The diocese has a duty to properly investigate all allegations and go through official channels to ensure everyone's safety, she said. Why the group came to Concho The men arrived in Concho about four years ago from the Canons Regular of Immaculate Conception, an Augustinian community in Santa Paula, California, after accusing their superior of abuse and inappropriate behavior. They were dismissed a month later, after an investigation by the order's leaders in Rome concluded there was no evidence supporting those allegations. Vizcarra said a sympathetic priest bought them plane tickets to Arizona, suggesting they take time to ponder their future. Concho was different from Los Angeles, where hundreds attended Mass on Sundays. They initially found the small community's intimacy uncomfortable. 'People would ask you what your favorite color is or what your favorite cake is,' Vizcarra said. The ladies would call him 'mijo,' a Spanish term of endearment that means 'my son.' Gradually, the sense of community became a healing salve and they learned to embrace it, he said. Group revitalized struggling parish and community More than two dozen residents from Concho and surrounding towns spoke passionately in support of the League of the Blessed Sacrament, saying the newcomers revitalized the community and parish. They've distributed food to the needy, hosted birthday parties for children whose families had nothing, breathed life into the village church with holy music and liturgy, and revived Concho's historic Christmas fiesta that had recently floundered. Angela Murphy, a longtime resident and local historian, said the men prayed at the church seven times a day. 'It was because of them that we heard church bells in Concho once again,' she said. After they were dismissed from their religious community, the group stopped wearing their habits and requested community members not address them as 'brothers' or 'sister.' But people still would out of reverence, Murphy said. Group members now wear black outfits, including sweatshirts bearing the logo of their organization, which Vizcarra said they founded years ago as seminarians in California. In their four years in Concho, they started an animal farm, a thrift store, a Catholic bookstore, a farmer's market and a coffee shop. The stores and a radio station, which the group purchased rights to, are in the heart of Concho. Vizcarra said they paid for projects with their teaching salaries, fundraising and donations from family members. The group's work with children They taught at St. Anthony's Catholic School in Show Low, a nearby town, until the diocese fired them in February. Vizcarra taught religion, Spanish and robotics; Seeley, math and religion; Faris, art; Ribaya, music. Hezmalhalch taught first grade. They all taught catechism as well. Several families shared stories of troubled or academically struggling children flourishing under their tutelage. Students who showed no interest in religion wanted to be baptized and confirmed after attending catechism, they said. The men also cared for three boys who came from troubled homes, including two brothers. With permission of the boys' mothers, they helped house the children with a local resident who opened up her rental unit. One boy's mother, Katherine Therese Heal, who shares custody of her son with Vizcarra, said the men have been strong role models for her son as she was divorcing his stepfather. She said her son, now 14, was depressed, had low self-esteem and loathed school. 'Now, he wants to go to college,' Heal said. 'What the brothers have done with him is miraculous. They have been the answer to my prayers.' Vizcarra said he and his colleagues initially balked at assuming parental roles. 'We felt these children needed normal families and we're not parents or dads,' he said. That reluctance eased when Heal's son responded with joyful tears when asked if he wanted to be under their care. Heal confirmed that Vizcarra and the men had begun the process to adopt her son. 'While it feels strange because none of us signed up to be a parent, we believe this is a way God has shown us to help people in dire need,' Vizcarra said. Community demands answers Hope MacMonagle, a Concho native, said the group has done 'more for our Catholic community in three years than the diocese has done in decades.' 'When the brothers came here, it was like a breath of fresh air,' she said. 'I'm a cradle Catholic and I love my religion. But when they got here, it was like I was learning my religion all over again.' MacMonagle said she and others have asked the diocese why this group was told to leave. They have been met with silence, she said. 'Sometimes, I get the feeling that people don't listen to us because we are small, insignificant, just a few people in the middle of nowhere,' she said. The group also was known in surrounding towns, such as Show Low, St. Johns and Snowflake. John and Ann Bunn, Show Low residents, met them at St. Rita's parish. She said the group did not 'entrench' themselves in the community. 'They were, rather, embraced by the people here because of their good deeds and the enormous amount of goodwill they've built here,' John Bunn said. Longtime Concho resident Christine Bennett became emotional ticking through the answers she is demanding from the diocese. 'We just want to know why,' she said. 'We see all that they've done to light up this community. Now, they're being ripped out of our parish and our hearts. Why is this happening?' Hammons said the diocese has not responded to residents because 'the answers to these questions are not appropriate to air publicly.' The way forward Last month, the group moved to Vernon, about 25 miles (40 kilometers) south of Concho. They've started a K-12 Catholic school. They are moving the farm animals as well but will maintain a presence in Concho with their shops and radio station. Despite the struggle for acceptance from the diocese, group members said they've received the healing they sought in Concho through their community service. But it still hurts and 'wasn't supposed to be this way,' said Faris, a Protestant minister who converted to Catholicism and wanted to become a priest. 'But God has provided us a way to be more holy and in a way, more conformed to him.' Faris and others say they still feel called to be priests, but are unsure if that will happen. Seeley said he is focusing on service and prayer. All members say they are keeping up their vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Ribaya said he will never 'sacrifice truth and justice for the sake of being a priest.' 'If God wants us to be priests, he'll make it happen,' he said. 'If it has to take 30 or 40 years, so be it.' ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content. Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .
San Francisco Chronicle
5 days ago
- San Francisco Chronicle
A group of Catholics revitalized a remote Arizona village before the diocese ordered them to leave
CONCHO, Ariz. (AP) — The village of Concho in the Arizona high desert is home to about 50 people — barely a dot in a sprawling, dusty landscape speckled with clumps of grass, scrub oak and juniper. Concho, about 200 miles northeast of Phoenix, has one restaurant, a Dollar General and a gas station that closes at 7 p.m. But this remote hamlet is now at the center of a Catholic Church controversy. Over the last six months, several members of this tight-knit community have been speaking up in support of a lay group of young Catholics who call themselves the League of the Blessed Sacrament. They say the group has revitalized this ignored, poverty-stricken region. However, leaders at the New Mexico-based Diocese of Gallup, which oversees the region, contend that group members misrepresented themselves as a religious order and engaged in activity not sanctioned by the Catholic Church. Bishop James S. Wall ordered the group to leave parish housing and stop leading liturgy and teaching in the region's Catholic school. Group members — Giovanni Vizcarra, Edward Seeley, Eric Faris, Anthony Ribaya and Lisa Hezmalhalch — maintain they have represented themselves truthfully and followed the diocese's orders. They believe the diocese, the poorest in the nation, asked them to leave because leaders are worried about potential liability stemming from the group taking three boys, victims of alleged domestic abuse, into their care. Diocese spokesperson Suzanne Hammons said Wall and the diocese are 'not afraid of liability" and are accustomed to dealing with sensitive situations in their parishes and schools. The diocese has a duty to properly investigate all allegations and go through official channels to ensure everyone's safety, she said. Why the group came to Concho The men arrived in Concho about four years ago from the Canons Regular of Immaculate Conception, an Augustinian community in Santa Paula, California, after accusing their superior of abuse and inappropriate behavior. They were dismissed a month later, after an investigation by the order's leaders in Rome concluded there was no evidence supporting those allegations. Vizcarra said a sympathetic priest bought them plane tickets to Arizona, suggesting they take time to ponder their future. Concho was different from Los Angeles, where hundreds attended Mass on Sundays. They initially found the small community's intimacy uncomfortable. 'People would ask you what your favorite color is or what your favorite cake is,' Vizcarra said. The ladies would call him 'mijo,' a Spanish term of endearment that means 'my son.' Gradually, the sense of community became a healing salve and they learned to embrace it, he said. Group revitalized struggling parish and community More than two dozen residents from Concho and surrounding towns spoke passionately in support of the League of the Blessed Sacrament, saying the newcomers revitalized the community and parish. They've distributed food to the needy, hosted birthday parties for children whose families had nothing, breathed life into the village church with holy music and liturgy, and revived Concho's historic Christmas fiesta that had recently floundered. Angela Murphy, a longtime resident and local historian, said the men prayed at the church seven times a day. 'It was because of them that we heard church bells in Concho once again,' she said. After they were dismissed from their religious community, the group stopped wearing their habits and requested community members not address them as 'brothers' or 'sister.' But people still would out of reverence, Murphy said. Group members now wear black outfits, including sweatshirts bearing the logo of their organization, which Vizcarra said they founded years ago as seminarians in California. In their four years in Concho, they started an animal farm, a thrift store, a Catholic bookstore, a farmer's market and a coffee shop. The stores and a radio station, which the group purchased rights to, are in the heart of Concho. Vizcarra said they paid for projects with their teaching salaries, fundraising and donations from family members. The group's work with children They taught at St. Anthony's Catholic School in Show Low, a nearby town, until the diocese fired them in February. Vizcarra taught religion, Spanish and robotics; Seeley, math and religion; Faris, art; Ribaya, music. Hezmalhalch taught first grade. They all taught catechism as well. Several families shared stories of troubled or academically struggling children flourishing under their tutelage. Students who showed no interest in religion wanted to be baptized and confirmed after attending catechism, they said. The men also cared for three boys who came from troubled homes, including two brothers. With permission of the boys' mothers, they helped house the children with a local resident who opened up her rental unit. One boy's mother, Katherine Therese Heal, who shares custody of her son with Vizcarra, said the men have been strong role models for her son as she was divorcing his stepfather. She said her son, now 14, was depressed, had low self-esteem and loathed school. 'Now, he wants to go to college,' Heal said. 'What the brothers have done with him is miraculous. They have been the answer to my prayers.' Vizcarra said he and his colleagues initially balked at assuming parental roles. 'We felt these children needed normal families and we're not parents or dads,' he said. That reluctance eased when Heal's son responded with joyful tears when asked if he wanted to be under their care. Heal confirmed that Vizcarra and the men had begun the process to adopt her son. 'While it feels strange because none of us signed up to be a parent, we believe this is a way God has shown us to help people in dire need,' Vizcarra said. Community demands answers Hope MacMonagle, a Concho native, said the group has done 'more for our Catholic community in three years than the diocese has done in decades.' 'When the brothers came here, it was like a breath of fresh air,' she said. 'I'm a cradle Catholic and I love my religion. But when they got here, it was like I was learning my religion all over again.' MacMonagle said she and others have asked the diocese why this group was told to leave. They have been met with silence, she said. 'Sometimes, I get the feeling that people don't listen to us because we are small, insignificant, just a few people in the middle of nowhere,' she said. The group also was known in surrounding towns, such as Show Low, St. Johns and Snowflake. John and Ann Bunn, Show Low residents, met them at St. Rita's parish. She said the group did not 'entrench' themselves in the community. 'They were, rather, embraced by the people here because of their good deeds and the enormous amount of goodwill they've built here,' John Bunn said. Longtime Concho resident Christine Bennett became emotional ticking through the answers she is demanding from the diocese. 'We just want to know why,' she said. 'We see all that they've done to light up this community. Now, they're being ripped out of our parish and our hearts. Why is this happening?' Hammons said the diocese has not responded to residents because 'the answers to these questions are not appropriate to air publicly.' The way forward Last month, the group moved to Vernon, about 25 miles (40 kilometers) south of Concho. They've started a K-12 Catholic school. They are moving the farm animals as well but will maintain a presence in Concho with their shops and radio station. Despite the struggle for acceptance from the diocese, group members said they've received the healing they sought in Concho through their community service. But it still hurts and 'wasn't supposed to be this way,' said Faris, a Protestant minister who converted to Catholicism and wanted to become a priest. 'But God has provided us a way to be more holy and in a way, more conformed to him.' Faris and others say they still feel called to be priests, but are unsure if that will happen. Seeley said he is focusing on service and prayer. All members say they are keeping up their vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Ribaya said he will never 'sacrifice truth and justice for the sake of being a priest.' 'If God wants us to be priests, he'll make it happen,' he said. 'If it has to take 30 or 40 years, so be it.'
Perth Now
02-07-2025
- Perth Now
Sean Combs fell to his knees as trial verdict was read out
Sean 'Diddy' Combs fell to his knees in a Manhattan courtroom as his trial verdict was read out, with legal experts calling the prosecution's case 'a complete and total failure'. The 55-year-old music mogul was convicted on two counts of transportation to engage in prostitution – charges each carrying a maximum 10-year sentence but no mandatory minimum. The jury acquitted Combs of the most serious charges, including racketeering conspiracy and two counts of sex trafficking, following a seven-week trial. The racketeering charge alone had carried the possibility of a life sentence. Combs was arrested in September 2024 and has remained in custody since, with several bail requests denied. His legal team has argued for his release ahead of sentencing, which is now pending a judge's decision. While Combs and his family celebrated the partial acquittal, prosecutors are expected to oppose bail, citing legal grounds that detention is mandatory after conviction on such federal charges. Former federal prosecutor Neama Rahmani, president of West Coast Trial Lawyers, spoke to The U.S. Sun following the outcome. He said: 'Today's verdict is nothing less than a complete and total failure by the prosecution in what will go down as the most expensive prostitution trial in American history. 'Even though the Mann Act carries a potential 10-year maximum sentence, Diddy is going to get time served or close to it. His sentencing guideline range may be as low as 15–21 months.' Prosecutors acknowledged in a letter to Judge Subramanian, obtained by The U.S. Sun, that the guideline sentence may range from 51 to 63 months. Combs has already served nine months. The letter noted: 'The Government has not had adequate time to carefully consider all potentially applicable Guidelines provisions.' Rahmani said the sex trafficking charges were undermined by 'evidence of consent' and added: 'The prosecution's only real chance of a victory was racketeering and to prove a non-sex related predicate act like kidnapping, arson, extortion, or bribery. They failed to lean on and flip key members of Diddy's inner circle like KK and D-ROC.' He also noted none of the alleged sexual assault victims who have filed civil suits against Combs and who had no professional or romantic ties to him were called to testify. New Mexico-based criminal defence attorney John W. Day also spoke to The U.S. Sun, saying: 'They presented a tsunami of evidence against Diddy over many weeks, and the jurors did not buy their story. The government was trying to convince the jury that RICO — which was designed to go after the Mafia and mob organised crime families — should be applied to baby oil and Diddy's high-flying lifestyle in the music business, and the jury just was not convinced.' He added: 'The prosecutors believed that Cassie Ventura and Jane — the girlfriend who testified under an alias — would tell a story of victimisation that the jury would feel empathy for, but they most likely just saw these witnesses as willing participants in the glamorous world of Diddy.' Actor Rosie O'Donnell wrote on Instagram following the verdict: 'I guess a jury just never wants to believe that a woman stays because of power and coercion — wow — they just think women stay because what? money — fame — 'they love the abuse' — what a f****** joke — this decision got me angry #cassie.' Combs' legal team submitted a letter to Judge Subramanian outlining why he should be released from custody. They argued he is not a flight risk, has appeared at all hearings, and has behaved as a 'model inmate'. The defence added 'reasonable conditions would ensure' he would not have the opportunity to arrange to meet with escorts. They also wrote: 'The jury unambiguously rejected the government's allegations that Mr. Combs ran a years-long criminal enterprise or engaged in sex trafficking — the core of the government's case.'
Irish Daily Star
02-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Daily Star
Trump's administration will decide where to send P Diddy after verdict if prison time ordered
President Donald Trump's team will determine where Sean "P. Diddy" Combs will serve his sentence for his guilty verdict of two counts. The verdict came out on Wednesday, July 2, for Diddy's federal trial . He was found guilty of two counts of transportation to engage in prostitution and not guilty of two counts of sex trafficking and one count of racketeering conspiracy. The rapper has not been sentenced yet, and it is not known how long he will serve. Transportation to engage in prostitution carries a maximum sentence of 10 years in prison. A New Mexico-based criminal defense attorney John W. Day spoke exclusively with Irish Star about Diddy's verdict and speculated on where he could serve potential prison time. "Overall, this verdict is a big win for Diddy, and for his star defense team. Most likely, the jury believed Cassie and Jane were there voluntarily, and enjoying being part of Diddy's world, and everything that came with," Day began. Read More Related Articles 50 Cent brands P Diddy 'gay John Gotti' after he's found not guilty on three of five charges Read More Related Articles P Diddy pumps fist as he's found guilty on two of five charges as jury delivers verdict "Diddy is facing 10 years maximum on each count of transportation across state lines, but it's unlikely they will stack all of those counts on top of each other given Diddy's lack of prior criminal convictions," the lawyer continued. The 12-person made their decision on July 2 (Image: AP) "If he does get sentenced to do prison time, then President Trump's Department of Justice gets to decide where to send him, and it might be that he gets sent to a prison near his homes in Miami or LA," he added. Diddy was facing five criminal counts, and he has pleaded not guilty. Additionally, he vehemently denies all allegations of wrongdoing against him, including those alleged in civil lawsuits. Last month, President Trump answered a reporter's question about whether or not he would pardon Diddy amid his sex trafficking and racketeering trial. Diddy has not yet been sentenced for his two counts of transportation of engage in prostitution that he was found guilty of (Image: Jordan Strauss/Invision/AP) "Nobody's asked but I know people are thinking about it. I know they're thinking about it. I think some people have been very close to asking," The Republican president said in a news conference on May 30. "First of all, I'd look at what's happening. And I haven't been watching it too closely, although it's certainly getting a lot of coverage." "I haven't seen him, I haven't spoken to him in years. He used to really like me a lot, but I think when I ran for politics, he sort of, that relationship busted up from what I read. I don't know. He didn't tell me that, but I'd read some nasty statements in the paper all of a sudden," he continued. "So, I don't know. I would certainly look at the facts. if I think somebody was mistreated, whether they like me or don't like me it wouldn't have any impact," Trump concluded. For the latest local news and features on Irish America, visit our homepage here .
