20/20 - Bad Rap: Party's Over

Episode Date: March 26, 2025

Introducing a new podcast from 20/20 and ABC Audio, "Bad Rap: The Case Against Diddy." Over the next six weeks, ABC News legal contributor Brian Buckmire will take you inside the rise and fall of Diddy, tracing how whispers of abuse came to light and led to his downfall. We'll be sharing all six episodes here on the 20/20 feed weekly on Wednesdays. But you can listen early and access twice-weekly court updates in May when the trial gets underway by following the show on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you listen to podcasts. This week the series begins with episode one, "Party's Over." Diddy was a legendary party host. His star-studded “white parties” were glittering displays of wealth and social capital that started in the world of hip-hop, and ultimately expanded far beyond it. But after a criminal indictment alleging sex trafficking, Diddy is now locked up, fighting to prove his innocence, stuck in a place that couldn’t be more different from the luxury he’s used to. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hi there, this is Deborah Roberts. For the next six weeks, the 2020 podcast is going to bring you a new series from our colleagues at ABC Audio. And this one is about Sean Diddy Combs, the hip hop mogul now facing federal charges, which he denies. Here's ABC's Brian Buckmeyer with Bad Rap, the case against Diddy. Episode one, party's over. In the summer of 2009, everyone was paying attention to Sean Diddy Combs.

He wasn't on the top of the Billboard charts anymore, but he had become a fixture of American pop culture. The flashiest example was his annual star-studded white party. It was an exclusive event, and everything had to be white, from the decor to the dress code. This was the early days of smartphones. Imagine every celebrity worth an Us Weekly headline with a bedazzled smartphone in their

hand. It was before TikTok and Instagram, when tabloid coverage claimed to break juicy celebrity stories. Compared to the prominence of video and social media today, private celebrity parties were much more private. But one bit of Diddy's 2009 white party was captured on video. Rapper and record producer J. Blaze caught it on camera and posted it to YouTube for the world to see. caught it on camera and posted it to YouTube for the world to see. Actor Ashton Kutcher grabs onto a swing strung over the pool and tarzans across it. Diddy is emceeing in a sea of white suits, dresses, linen and sunglasses.

Woo! Don't do that at home. By the summer of 2009, Diddy had won three Grammys. He had five songs hit number one on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, and three of his albums had gone platinum. He was successful and rich. Four months from turning 40, Forbes Magazine put Diddy's net worth at $30 million.

He'd presented himself for a long time as a champion and model of Black excellence. And he was feeling patriotic after the U.S. elected its first Black president. So he decided this year's White Party would be held on Independence Day. He gave Marie Claire magazine a sneak peek before the party started. The pool, draped in gauzy white curtains and chandeliers. Platters of shrimp, crab cakes, and barbecue were served. I fell in love, 4th of July. You know, I'm out here making movies and meeting new people,

and that's what the white part is about, about people meeting new people. A sommelier explains that all the wine served would be, of course, white. about people meeting new people. A sommelier explains that all the wine served would be, of course, white. We are gonna be pouring some wines from the south of the Burgundy region. A macon village and a Pouillé-Fuissé.

Two of the biggest songs of 2009 were Lady Gaga's Poker Face and I Got A Feeling by the Black Eyed Peas. None of Diddy's music was at the top of the charts, but this was the year he rapped Making The Band, the show that made him a reality star. And reality shows were hot. Diddy's hit show was the perfect blend of American Idol, the number one TV show in America

that year, and another popular show at the time, The Celebrity Apprentice. On making the band, Diddy presented himself as a kind of Trump-like figure of the music industry, who would crown the next big pop group. Diddy had been throwing these Gatsby-esque white parties for almost a decade. The first was on Labor Day in 1998, when he had just bought a home in the Hamptons. He hosted a bunch of them there and then in Saint-Tropez on the French Riviera. One year, he took a helicopter to the party and landed holding an original copy of the Declaration of Independence. The famous writer Norman Lear loaned it to

him. All of the big celebrities appeared at Diddy's White Parties. Beyonce, Jay-Z, Jonah Hill, Martha Stewart, Paris Hilton, Aretha Franklin, Al Sharpton, and Donald Trump. They all orbited the Diddy White Party sphere. As a record exec, Diddy helped launch the careers of artists who would become legends The Notorious B.I.G., Mary J. Blige, Faith Evans, Usher, and many others. So it's no surprise people wanted the invite to Diddy's parties. If they had got one, then they belonged in the list of celebrities, politicians, and cultural icons who had proximity to a mogul, who knew everyone and could make things happen. You could hang out in the backyard with hundreds of guests who made it through the gates to the

main party. But it still had a VIP section, an inner circle. There's like the party in the backyard and then there's like the few people in the house. Beyonce was never in the backyard. She's in the house with Jay-Z. She's in the house with the kids, you know? We didn't get to smell the same air as Beyonce. Reality TV personality and podcaster Jason Lee was at the 2009 Independence Day White Party. He remembers it as a good time and says it helped his career.

Lee claims he never saw any darkness or any hints of the crimes Diddy would be accused of years later. People like me who went to the regular Diddy parties, we had our chicken and waffles, we sipped our syroc, we danced and we went home. Lots of people who attended Diddy's parties never saw his alleged dark side. For decades, A-listers were eager to pose next to the mogul at a Hamptons bash. Today, many of those celebrities are actively distancing themselves from Diddy,

not wanting to share that toxic spotlight. At the height of his power and influence, Diddy had complete control over his world. He decided who got to be an insider, controlled what happened when the lights went out, and he'd tell his guests as much. This is a legendary white party. It's the lights went out. And he'd tell his guest as much. Make sure you're comfortable, kids, because after that, y'all gotta go. It's a wrap for y'all, because this thing turns into something that when y'all get older, y'all don't wanna come to. Okay? The curfew announcement.

When kids had to disappear and lots of adults left to. It hints at a turn. Diddy foreshadows an adult world, a late night world of secrets. And some of those secrets, they've come pouring out. Diddy's Rise and Fall. It's the story we'll tell you in the first six episodes of this podcast. How a man who was on top of the music industry and on top of the world is now

confined to a cell that couldn't be less luxurious, awaiting trial. now confined to a cell that couldn't be less luxurious, awaiting trial. And once the trial begins, we'll take you there, with twice-weekly updates as the case unfolds. Two very different versions of Diddy have emerged over the years. The charmer, that he showed the world, and the predator that onlookers and alleged victims are now claiming he was all along. Which version of Diddy will win out in court? I'm Brian Buckmeyer,

an attorney and an ABC News legal contributor. From ABC Audio, this is Bad Rap, the case against Diddy. Episode one, party's over. Diddy's white parties were glittering displays of wealth and social capital. But to some, they were clues, even early on, that Diddy's world had shadows. Justin Tinsley is a cultural reporter for ESPN's Anscape, which focuses on Black culture. He says there'd always been rumors about what Diddy was like behind the scenes, at parties and in his personal and professional life.

It was just a matter of what's true, what's not, and is somebody ever going to come to the forefront and really say, like, these are my experiences with this guy. In November of 2023, someone did come forward. Diddy's ex-girlfriend, Cassie Ventura, filed a civil lawsuit against him, alleging that for over a decade, he trapped her in a cycle of abuse, violence, and sex trafficking. The lawsuit was a bombshell. It alleged Cassie was forced to participate in orchestrated, elaborate sex parties Diddy called freak-offs that he would film and keep recordings of.

A day after the lawsuit was filed, Diddy settled with Cassie for an undisclosed amount and no admission of guilt. But Cassie opened the floodgates. Over the next 12 months, others who had spent time with Diddy, from a music producer to a former model to a yacht stewardess, filed lawsuits too. These lawsuits alleged rape, sexual assault, and human trafficking. Many also alleged Diddy would spike drinks and lace marijuana with narcotics to knock people out or make it harder for them to resist assault.

Some mentioned Diddy videotaping assaults to further control and humiliate his victims. Those lawsuits went from a steady drip to a rapid current. There are now dozens of them. In December of 2023, Diddy said in a statement that he did not do any of the quote, awful things being alleged. He called them sickening allegations by people looking for a quick payday. His attorney told ABC News Combs couldn't comment on settled litigation, wouldn't comment on pending litigation, and, quote, cannot address every allegation picked up by the

press from any source, no matter how unreliable." End quote. But in the fall of 2024, criminal charges were filed against Diddy by the feds. In a dramatic turn of events, federal investigators raiding two homes owned by hip hop mogul Sean Diddy Cone. A Homeland Security spokesperson says the raid of the rapper's properties was carried out as part of an ongoing investigation into allegations of sex trafficking. Music mogul Sean Diddy Combs arrested in a New York City hotel by federal agents with

Homeland Security investigations after being indicted by a grand jury. Mansions where he'd once hosted lavish parties, were raided by federal agents. In LA, more than a dozen officers pulled up in armored vehicles, wearing fatigues, guns drawn, pointing them at Diddy's sons, who happened to be at home. In Miami, it was police officers in t-shirts driving up to Diddy's compound in vans. Combs is now facing federal criminal charges that read a lot like those earlier civil lawsuits — sex trafficking, transportation to engage in prostitution, and racketeering conspiracy. The charges accuse Diddy of decades of criminal behavior, and unlike the civil lawsuits that

he faced from Cassie and now from others, these criminal charges could land him in prison for the rest of his life. Combs has pled not guilty to all charges. His attorney, Mark Agnifilo, called it an unjust prosecution. He said Combs was a quote, music icon, self-made entrepreneur, loving family man, and proven philanthropist who has spent the last 30 years building an empire, adoring his children, and working to uplift the black community. He called Combs an imperfect person, but not a criminal.

Once these lawsuits and charges were filed, reporters and fans started looking at Diddy's past with more scrutiny. And up close, knowing the allegations against him, even his famed summer party started to look very different. Like this clip from an appearance on Conan O'Brien's show in 2002. Conan compliments Diddy on being a legendary party host and asks him for tips on throwing a quote, killer party. A lot of ladies drink water at parties.

They just, you know, so if you don't have what they need, they gonna leave. Gotta keep them there. You need locks on the doors. -♪ POP MUSIC PLAYING A joke about locking doors so women can't leave lands a little differently now. I've been captivated by Diddy's rise and fall for two reasons. The first one is pretty straightforward.

When I was growing up in the 90s and 2000s, Diddy was everywhere. It's hard to be a millennial and not know his music or his impact on the music industry. One of his most popular songs I remember playing on the radio in elementary school was his All About the Benjamins. And Can't Nobody Hold Me Down. Can't nobody hold me down Oh no, I got to keep on movin' He marketed himself as a kingmaker in the world of hip hop, and everything he touched seemed to turn to gold. He turned hip hop from being a thing my mom probably didn't want me to listen to, to something that could make him into a billionaire businessman,

something my mom wouldn't approve of. Back then, before the lawsuits, before the allegations and scrutiny, Diddy was someone you could look up to. But I'm not a culture reporter or a music journalist. I'm an attorney. I spent almost 10 years as a public defender in New York City, the last few of those in the homicide unit. Now I litigate federal, civil and criminal cases.

And to be clear, I am not an attorney on Diddy's case, but I have represented people who have been accused of the kind of crimes he's being accused of, and people who were victims of those types of crimes. And even with all of my experience, when I read through some of the lawsuits from the people who had sued Diddy, I had to stop myself sometimes. The photos and details were jaw-dropping. They were a shock to my system.

And the federal indictment is sweeping and disturbing. Diddy is accused of running a vast criminal enterprise that abused, threatened, and coerced his alleged victims and others around him to fulfill his sexual desires, protect his reputation, and cover up his conduct for decades. Diddy maintains his innocence. His trial is set to start in May. Until then, he's locked up, stuck in a place that couldn't be more different from the luxury he's used to.

A place he doesn't want to be. A place that no amount of money can get him It's been a minute since we've been out in the wild. It might take some time. We have all weekend to find... Being back at the house like a white man hailing a cab. This friendship is my love story. Yes, it's sexless and annoying, but what long-lasting love story is? Mid-Century Modern, all episodes streaming March 28th. And for a limited time, get Disney Plus and Hulu for just $2.99 a month. Don't miss Good American Family.

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I don't know what's going on. How old are you? You should get a lawyer. Hey, I'm Brad Milky. You may know me as the host of ABC Audio's daily news podcasts, Start Here, but I'd like to add aspiring true crime expert to my resume. And here's how I'm going to make it happen. Every week, I'm going to unpack the biggest true crime story that everyone is talking about. ABC has got some unique access here. So I'll talk to the reporters and producers who have followed these cases for months, sometimes years. We're bringing the latest developments and the larger context on the true crime stories you've been hearing about.

Follow the crime scene for special access to the people who know these stories best. In Diddy's old life, he could choose which of his many homes he wanted to spend time in. A three-story mansion overlooking the Pacific Ocean and downtown LA, a compound in Miami including a nine-bedroom mansion, a New York City apartment with views of Central Park, homes in New Jersey and Atlanta, and a waterfront mansion in the Hamptons. Now, Diddy's in the Metropolitan Detention Center, or MDC, in Brooklyn.

This bland behemoth is where he'll stay as he awaits trial. So we're pulling up to MDC now. It's got like this uncapped, unwashed, grunginess of it. There's a tall metal fence around the MDC complex, so the parking lot's as far as most reporters get. But as a defense attorney, I'm here almost every week, and I can get further than most.

I walk through the gate, up the steps, and through the doors to security. I get escorted into the visitor's area, and I meet my client for about an hour or two. For the parts of the jail I can't see, my clients fill me in. About how boiling hot it is in the summer, how cold it is in the winter. An inmate told me that at one point when there was no heat or hot water,

he couldn't go to the showers and instead was dumping hot water onto his body from the sink, washing himself and catching the water in the toilet. onto his body from the sink, washing himself, and catching the water in the toilet. I had to come to MDC on that cold gray day in January to meet with a client who was awaiting sentencing. Getting out of my Uber,

I looked up at this complex of tall concrete buildings. And the gate before you come in, you can actually hear people. It almost sounds like they're like rec hour. Yeah, it sounds like they're playing a sport. Each of MDC's buildings are ten or more stories tall, and where the windows in a typical apartment would be, you have red brick slabs with narrow slats and big sections of metal grating that give you the impression of a locked jail cell,

even from the outside. MDC is right on the Brooklyn waterfront, just a few blocks from a bougie converted warehouse space, full of artisanal shops and upscale restaurants. But if you're part of the legal system in New York, you know that MDC is not a nice place to be. In fact, it's been described as hell on earth, known for its violence, corruption, and miserable conditions. It's a federal building, so you can see Department of Justice, Federal Bureau of Prisons, you see the American flag,

and the building has watermarks and rust on the metal parts and things of that way. Over the years, it's housed some people you've probably heard of, like R. Kelly, Michael Cohen, Ghislaine Maxwell, Sam Bankman Freed, Luigi Mangione, and Sean Diddy Combs. Combs has been at MDC since he was arrested last September. According to his attorney, Mark Agnifilo, Diddy had flown to New York to cooperate with authorities. He came here to turn himself in. He's been looking forward to clearing his name, and he's going to clear his name.

Paparazzi and onlookers caught snippets of Diddy's visit to New York last September. And from those photos and videos, it looked like he was enjoying his time, talking and smiling with fans, playing hacky sack in Central Park, strolling through the city with his family. If Diddy had plans to turn himself in, he didn't do it for the first 12 days he was in New York. But on the night of September 16th at the Park Hyatt Hotel in midtown Manhattan, Homeland Security Investigations agents caught Diddy by surprise.

You can see on the hotel security footage that Diddy walked into the front door, and the agents approached him. They separated him from the group he was with, put handcuffs on him, and took him away. The day after Combs' arrest, the prosecutor at the time held a news conference to announce the charges. Combs allegedly planned and controlled the sex performances, which he called freak-offs, and he often electronically recorded them. The freak-offs sometimes lasted days at a time, involved multiple commercial sex workers, and often involved a variety of narcotics,

such as ketamine, ecstasy, and GHB, which Combs distributed to the victims to keep them obedient and compliant. Because of how serious and violent the alleged crimes are, Combs was ordered held without bail. ABC News chief investigative correspondent, Aaron Koturski, was in the courtroom. Sean Combs entered in a black t-shirt, gray sweatpants and sneakers.

He actually looked a little stunned as he surveyed the imposing room. Several of his children and his sister were there watching as he pleaded not guilty. And then they saw him led out by the marshals after the judge ordered him into custody without bail David. Aaron Kuturski leading us off. It didn't surprise me that things didn't go Diddy's way with bail. The allegations and trafficking charges are very serious. And if Diddy were out on bail, the fear was he'd have the ability to reach witnesses

and possibly intimidate them. I didn't think there was a chance he was getting out. But that didn't stop Diddy or his attorneys from trying. Diddy's attorney told reporters before the start of the bail hearings MDC was no place for his client. I told Mr. Combs, I'm going to try and get his case to trial as quickly as possible. I'm going to try and minimize the amount of time he spends in very, very difficult and I believe inhumane housing conditions in the special housing unit of the Metropolitan Detention Facility.

Over and over again, did he try to get released? He tried offering a $50 million bond. He tried offering home confinement. He tried to prove he wasn't a flight risk, attempting to sell his private plane, and saying he'd surrender his passport to his attorney. He was trying to be a cooperative defendant. But no, Shawn Combs was denied bail four times. bail once again. The judge in New York denied Music Mobile Sean Combs' request for bail, saying Combs is potentially dangerous to the community. The judges were also concerned he'd obstruct justice and intimidate witnesses.

That last part, witness intimidation, has become a big issue in Combs' case in recent months. In one of his first bail hearings, prosecutors presented calls Diddy made and texts he sent before his arrest. They said Diddy reached out to potential witnesses, telling them that he'd be taken care of financially if they stuck by his side. And then in November, after he'd been at MDC for about two months and was up for a third chance at bail, prosecutors alleged Combs had been paying other inmates to access their phone accounts and, according to the government, avoid law enforcement monitoring. And prosecutors said they caught Combs on recorded calls from jail, asking family members

to reach out to potential victims and witnesses and urge them to come up with narratives to sway the jury in his favor. Prosecutors wrote in their court filing, the defendant has shown repeatedly, even while in custody, that he will flagrantly and repeatedly flout rules in order to improperly impact the outcome of his case. The defendant has shown, in other words, that he cannot be trusted to abide by rules or conditions. Diddy's attorneys responded to prosecutors' arguments by saying the non-stop drumbeat of negative publicity has destroyed Combs' reputation and will make it virtually impossible for him to receive a fair trial.

So Combs isn't back in his $48 million mansion on an island in Miami Beach, where at one point he'd asked to await trial. Instead, he's being detained far from the pools, hot tubs, cabanas, and ocean views he's used to. So what's it like being an inmate at MDC? What's it like being a celebrity and alleged sex offender in MDC, a notoriously dangerous and neglected jail? After the break, we meet someone who gives us an inside view of MDC most people don't get to see, and a window into Combs' life behind bars. This is a warning for David Blaine's new series on National Geographic. Do not attempt anything you are about to hear.

As a magician, I'm searching for people with amazing abilities who will teach me things that I didn't even know were possible. Things that you shouldn't do and anything can go wrong. Whoa! Go, go, go! National Geographic's David Blaine, Do Not Attend, now streaming on Disney Plus and Hulu. DISTRICTED DISTRICTED Just a few weeks ago, I talked to someone who's been past the visitation area at MDC,

who's really been on the inside. And I will try my best to make this not feel like a cross-examination, even though that is my typical practice. Oh, that's okay. You can ask me anything. I mean, understanding how many years… That's Cameron Lindsay.

He's worked in corrections for 25 years. He was a warden of five different correctional facilities, including MDC Brooklyn, and since retiring in 2014, he's continued to work in jails and prisons around the country as a consultant and also serves as an expert witness, often testifying on behalf of a plaintiff who was hurt or even killed while incarcerated. So he's seen some stuff in this country's corrections system. And he says for anyone, going into detention is a shock to the system, but especially for someone

like Sean Combs. Just utterly upending, utterly shocking. I mean, for somebody like you're pointing out, sir, who has boatloads of money, who is used to a lifestyle of just doing whatever he wants, it's like going 100 miles an hour and slamming into a wall. It's small things, like having to wear the same beige prison-issued drum suit as everyone else. And it's big things, too, like where and how he's housed. Diddy's lawyer has said he's in what's called the special housing unit,

which means he's separated from the general population. If it were up to retired Ward and Lindsay, he'd go even further, putting Diddy in almost complete isolation. In my humble estimation, an individual like Mr. Combs, P. Diddy, he should be quartered separately in a lockdown situation, which would entail 23 hours in a lockdown cell by himself. He would be afforded one hour of recreation every day. He would be afforded three showers per week. His meals would be delivered to him in his cell. But that doesn't seem to be MDC's approach.

Diddy reportedly has access to at least some other inmates. Convicted crypto fraudster Sam Bankman Fried said in an interview with Tucker Carlson that Diddy has been kind to people in the unit, and he's been, quote, kind to me. We also know Diddy's cell is small, not what he's used to. They have a toilet-sink combo. They have a desk, and they have a bunk. And that's it. They are afforded certain privileges, reading materials, commissary. They keep Diddy separated from the jail's general population to keep him safe.

His wealth and notoriety could make him a target. When somebody has this much money and they have been alleged to have committed these heinous crimes, like in this case with P. Diddy, all those things add up to the likelihood of a potential threat. It's right for MDC officials to take Diddy's safety seriously. The facility is infamously dangerous. The Associated Press reported that just in the last three years, there has been a stabbing death, a death after a brawl, and at least four deaths by suicide. And in the time Diddy's been

at MDC, an inmate was charged with orchestrating a murder-for-hire plot from inside. A Southern District of New York judge said in a 2024 opinion that defendants at MDC Brooklyn complain of quote, near perpetual lockdowns, dreadful conditions, and lengthy delays in getting medical care. He and other federal judges have refused to send defendants to MDC on the grounds that conditions are so bad. Conditions at MDC sank to their lowest in 2019 with what Lindsay calls the freezeout, when nearly 1,700 inmates had to live

in below freezing temperatures for a week. They couldn't get the power on for like a week. And I was just so perplexed by that. And so that was the first thing that started getting my attention. Like what the heck's going on with the agency? There was a heat and power outage at the same time. Cells were dark, toilets wouldn't flush, and access to food, medical care, and phone calls

were cut off. Inmates sued, the Department of Justice investigated, and a settlement was reached for about $10 million. When you're incarcerated, sometimes getting to bear necessities can be a struggle. But what happens when your clientele includes people with means, people who are used to buying whatever they want. Lindsay doesn't know anything about ditties specifically, but I asked him about corruption in general. So if I tell you that I've heard stories like,

well, people are buying cell phones inside of MDC and people are having sometimes lobster dinners or dinners brought to them that you're wondering, how are you eating like this in MDC? Are those shocking to you at all that I'm talking to you about lobster dinners and cell phones in MDC? No, you at all that I'm talking to you about lobster dinners and cell phones in MDC?

No, not at all. There's an element of corruption in every correctional facility. I can tell you that at MDC Brooklyn, my experience was there was a core of really, really solid staff at MDC Brooklyn that held the facility together. Unfortunately, however, there is a disproportionate element of misconduct and corruption within the Metropolitan Detention Center Brooklyn. So it's true and disappointing. It's hard to know the precise impact Ditty's presence has had on MDC, but retired warden

Cameron Lindsay says it's reasonable to think there's been increased scrutiny on the facility from higher-ups. We do know since he's been in, there have been lockdowns and contraband sweeps involving other inmates, in which investigators have seized drugs, homemade weapons, and electronic devices. I can't even imagine the pressure that's coming down from the top of the administration down. I would think that the word coming down is, you better keep these people safe and make sure that you're doing your job.

So we started with Diddy at his peak. The host of the party that everyone wanted to go to. The center of an industry that so many wanted to be part of. The key that could unlock success and fame for those around him. But now he's locked up and can't even control the most basic things. Like when he eats or babes. How did Diddy go from mogul to inmate? How did he build not just a career, but an empire?

And if the allegations against him are true, how did he get away with the violence, abuse, and manipulation for so long? Coming up on Bad Rap, the case against Diddy. I've seen a lot of death, you know. I don't know why, believe me, I ask myself the same question. Like, you know, why have I been chosen to see all of this, you know, death at such a young age?

Diddy's success comes at a price, but time and time again, he doesn't seem to be the one paying. This is the beginning of this sense of invincibility. In our next episode, we'll trace the path of Diddy's rising star, from College Dropout to the cover of Rolling Stone. And later in our series, the early signs of Diddy's alleged dark side start to emerge.

We began to see her more in the public as Diddy's girlfriend and less as the artist Cassie. The culture of silence was colossal. It kept people silent for a really long time. And I would venture to say it still is keeping people silent right now. Stay with us as new episodes drop every week in the lead-up to Diddy's Trial. Once it starts, we'll keep you posted with updates throughout.

If you enjoyed this episode, we'd love if you share it and give us a rating on Apple podcasts or Spotify. Bad Rap, the Case Against Diddy, is a production of ABC Audio. I'm Brian Buckmeyer. This podcast was written and produced by Vika Aronson, Camille Peterson, and Nancy Rosenbaum.

Tracy Samuelson is our story editor. Associate producer, Amira Williams. Production help from Shane McKeon. Fact checker, Audrey Mostek. Story consultant, Sweeney St. Phil. Supervising producer, Sasha Aslanian. Original music by Evan Viola. Mix music by Eben Viola. Mixing by Rick Kwan.

Ariel Chester is our social media producer. This podcast was powered by the journalists at Impact by Nightline, 2020, GMA, and the ABC News Investigative Unit. Thanks to those teams. And special thanks to Stephanie Maurice, Liz Alessi, and Katie Dendas.

Josh Cohan is ABC Audio's director of podcast programming. Laura Mayer is our executive producer.