Associate Editor Tom Bryant recalls his two meetings with shamed rapper P Diddy and the very different person he came across on both occasions
The instruction when it came was short and to the point. Diddy, 2pm. Soho Hotel. Meet by the lift.
The rapper’s handler proceeded to tell me I had a “tight five-minute window” whereby he would “walk and talk” from our meeting spot to his waiting limousine in the hotel courtyard. It wasn’t exactly the full sit-down interview I had hoped for after Diddy – Sean Combs – flew into London to perform at the tribute concert for the late Diana, Princess of Wales, in 2007.
But it came just four months after I’d spent hours with him in Paris where, truth be told, he was much more generous with his time. On that occasion, he regaled me backstage with wild stories about his sex life, including his love of 30-hour tantric sex sessions.
“As meticulous as I am with my work, I’m more meticulous with lovemaking. I like to do it for a long time,” he told me.
It was a brash, outrageous interview. And it was followed by an even more eye-popping after-party in which he sent magnums of champagne to my table as scantily clad women gyrated around me. “There is no party like a Diddy party,” he bragged. But as I met up with him weeks later in London, it was as if he was an altogether different man: quiet, thoughtful and wholly charming.
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In a quietly spoken voice, Diddy told me how much it meant to him to play the charity concert and I remember being struck by how passionate he was about paying tribute to Diana’s memory.
As we chatted next to his blacked-out car, which would shortly whisk him off to Wembley Stadium, he sweetly thanked me for my support.
I came away thinking that the bravado of our earlier meeting was just performative and that this was the real Diddy: a true gentleman. It was perhaps this version of himself that Diddy might have wished to impress upon jurors during his eight-week trial in New York City. But instead, the one that emerged was darker than anyone – including myself – could have ever imagined.
We heard the harrowing testimonies of Casandra “Cassie” Ventura, the star’s long-time partner, and another victim referred to only as “Jane”. Both women described being coerced into “freak-offs” – forced sex acts with male escorts arranged by Combs while he watched and recorded them.
Ventura described to jurors how her then-boyfriend “would smash me in my head, drag me, kick me, stomp me in the head if I was down”. When asked how often the abuse occurred, she said: “Too frequently. ”
The appalling domestic abuse was cited by the judge as the reason why Combs was refused bail and sent back to jail in Brooklyn. He will remain there until his sentencing in October, when he could face up to 20 years in prison after his conviction on two counts of transportation to commit prostitution.
In reality, he could end up serving much less than that. The more serious charges – of which he was found not guilty – carried a life sentence.
As the verdict was delivered on Wednesday, Combs flung himself to the ground and prayed. He then turned to his family and exclaimed: “I’m coming home, baby!” Hearing about those courtroom theatrics, I felt nothing but disgust.
Even more so when his legal team positioned events as a victory despite the scale of domestic abuse laid bare in the witness box. Then there were the equally unedifying scenes on the streets outside. Some fans poured baby oil – 1,000 bottles of which were seized in raids at his homes – over themselves.
Source: Mirror
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