I went to #Diddy’s house at 10am on a Tuesday

For obvious reasons, I did not want to share this story.

When it first hit the news about Diddy’s abuse back in 2023, I was not shocked.

I had heard almost verbatim the same story/statement YEARS before the headines.

Maestro …

Back in 2017, I was asked to vet P. Diddy’s tech team.

A friend of mine (technically I consider him family) was launching a new project, and he was introduced to this person who was in Diddy’s circle, and needed help vetting the tech team.

See, someone on the team had hired this “crew” but this guy being the lead and not knowing anything about tech meant he had a vulnerability. My friend being the investor in the project, called me.

We agreed to meet up later that week at a place I had previously had a sponsorship with … the London Hotel in WeHo.

I sat at the table with my friend, and his new business partner (whom I was meeting for the first time).

The meeting took place at 4, so the normally busy place was completely dead.

My friend is a class act, the guy I was asked to meet was kinda like a Mylar balloon, but if a Mylar balloon was built like a tank.

He was built like a brick house, but also so easily distracted.

The server came over with a limited menu - as the shiny tank shooed and said “just bring one of everything.”

I had joked to my friend that one day I would do that - but never actually thought this would happen.

“You understand social media,” he asked?

… putting one of the two phones down giving me what appeared to be his full attention.

Yes, I said.

Hold on, he said, as he went back to his iPhone 8 and the INCREDIBLY important conversation that was monopolizing all of our time.

I could tell my friend was getting a bit upset, but I was all in for whatever was happening as it was CLIMBING THE CHARTS FOR “STRANGEST FIRST IMPRESSION.”

He hung up his phone, and then opened up an iPad flipping the cover open like a laptop.

We’re launching this new project. I didn’t hire this team - they came from someone else connected to Diddy.

I just need to know if they’re legit. They’re expensive - and I don’t care about that, I just need to know that they’re not full of shit.

I get it, I said very matter of fact.

In the 90s and 2000s, Diddy was the definition of a mogul, running Bad Boy Records, launching some of the decade defining records, and creating icons like Biggie and Mase. He was everywhere … music videos, magazines, clubs, and award shows (which were still relevant) and everything he touched screamed style and swagger. I WAS HIS TARGET DEMOGRAPHIC AT THE TIME!!!

From his suits to his sunglasses to his booming persona, he turned himself into a brand (before that was a “thing”) that sold music, fashion, and an attitude.

The era didn’t just follow him, it moved to his beat, and anyone paying attention knew there was no bigger name in the game.

His parties were heralded as the “ultimate get,” and as someone who spent my college equivalent years frolicking at the Playboy Mansion - THIS WAS A HUGE DEAL.

My friend is also an investor, so he can literally put his money where his mouth is … and he said because “he trusts you, I just need to know if I can trust them.”

Can I make an introduction?

Of course, I said.

I need you to go over to the house which was a hybrid live/work environment and ask them whatever questions you’d ask if you wanted to know if someone was legit.

This was peak Gary Vee “hustle culture.” I knew those bros, half of Gary Vee’s staff slid into my DMs - and I could smell the bullshit a mile away. He specifically didn’t want that. He didn’t want people who were “buying into things.” He wanted this project to be innovative.

I get it, I said.

He then made the introduction to one of the associates via text as the obnoxiously small plated, large “limited menu,” food items arrived.

The shiny tank then took a single bite as he went back to one of the phones.

“What’s that yelling?” I said to my friend impressive I could even hear it as it wasn’t placed on speakerphone.

That’s him.

Oh, he’s on the phone with Diddy?

Yeah? He’s really loud, I said stating the obvious.

(Diddy’s original name was Puffy due to his “huffing and puffing” in anger.)

On brand, I thought but didn’t say.

It’s his house you’re going to. Technically one of them, he said.

I put the address in my GPS as I whispered, I’ve been living THIS CLOSE to Diddy for two years?!?!

My inner 13 year old fan girl was having a moment, as my 30 something self got my shit together recognizing this was a mission I was clearly ready to accept.

“Friel, you are going to Diddy’s house to vet his tech team.”

That Tuesday, I arrived at my then startup, and said, “I’m going to P. Diddy’s house today. Even for me, this is weird.”

(There was only one other person in the office at the time, and vocalizing surreal experiences help me process them.)

I set up my laptop connecting it to the external monitor I had at my desk - as I strutted myself back to my car to head to the house of Diddy.

AKA:

…The Did-master

…El Dideriono - if you’re not into that whole brevity thing.

The adulting 30-something in me had to calm the 13 year old fan girl that was LOSING HER MIND over this opportunity.

Wanting to live this life experience to the fullest … I obviously played my fav songs en route to the comically short ride over.

I parked in the driveway (as the road had too much traffic).

Every detail had to be impeccable - as this was in my mind, one of the biggest moments in my career.

“You can do this, Friel. Yes you are still mentally 13, but your THIRTY-SOMETHING YEAR OLD IS A BAD ASS THAT IS HERE TO VET P.DIDDY’S TECH TEAM.”

I parked in what would be considered “half way” into the driveway.

I walked up to the front door, taking a deep breath - knowing I had been waiting my ENTIRE LIFE for this moment.

::knock knock::

::deep breath::

I looked down at my phone and it said 10am (our confirmed time).

::knock knock::

I looked down at my phone again to confirm it was actually Tuesday.

::whew::

Logistics then struck me again as I thought - OH! They must have headphones in ... Like me while working. Totally get it.

I walked back past my car to a second door that looked like it was in a kitchen area.

::knock knock::

I then looked closer and noticed the door was partially blocked by what looked like pallets of bottles of flavored water.

Might be an actual door, I thought, but definitely isn’t one that is used. I then called the contact’s number, and there was no answer.

Refusing to back down, and also not wanting to be seen “lurking” on a celebrities’ property … I then walked into this back patio area … and noticed there was a sliding glass door.

No way - I thought to myself.

I’m not just like “going to walk into the house of Diddy.”

Checking myself before wrecking myself, I called again (no answer) and realized - well, it’s either this, or I leave.

I found the one open door and slid in unannounced.

The first thing I noticed were the classic “gaming rocker style chairs,” but in a single, warehouse-style version like something from Costco. The only difference was the color piping.

“Hello,” I said declarative not wanting to be shot as a potential intruder in the house of the Did-man.

I then saw one of the people (who I’m assuming) was the person I was assigned to meet with.

They were sitting in this GORGEOUS dining room on a conference call all huddled around.

Clearly their call had gone over.

“I’m good,” I mouthed placing my hands out like windshield wipers indicating “I come in peace.”

Not knowing which gamer rocking chair to sit in (as people like myself can be VERY PARTICULAR about their chairs) - I just took a few steps back towards the sliding doors and pretended to be extremely busy on my phone.

Hey, sorry I missed your call, the “group leader” said moments later.

No worries, I said.

Let’s go outside, he said motioning to the “number two” (I was there to meet) as the three of us walked outside.

SOOOO, this is the House of Diddy, I said stating the obvious hoping to break the ice.

The architecture was GOOORRRGGEEEOOOUUUSSSS and not pretentious (as my judgy, former Connecticut architectural obsessed self assumed).

Yeah, he said. This is the “other” house.

I mean, it’s not a bad place to be - I said as I noticed the “number two” was lighting up a joint.

Do you partake? he asked politely.

As a proud member of the medicinal marijuana card club (I used my Linkedin profile photo to make it “extra legit”), I thought about it for a second.

My 30 something self had to get back to work … but my 13 year old self was NOT going to pass up an opportunity to PUFF at PUFF’s house!!

Sure, I said as we all took a hit.

It was obvious we all had ADHD, and for some types, weed can actually help “clear” the mind. I have the stimulant type, so it doesn’t work that way for me, but I still understood why and how it can be helpful - no judgement.

I then explained that I knew the investor on the project and just had a couple of questions in terms of strategy.

(Obviously this part I can’t share.)

We then batted and bantered back and forth on different ideas, and people we knew … they were both definitely outside of the box thinkers - so the legitimacy I was there to confirm definitely “checked out.”

After less than an hour at the Did-man’s house, I said I was looking forward to working with them …. not really sure what my involvement would be but clearly as just someone down for this adventure.

Can we give you some of his new water before we leave?

I laughed saying no thank you - but I did see them in front of the other door I tried knocking on.

The main guy laughed and said wait, you knocked?

Yeah, I said, I wasn’t just about to literally walk into Diddy’s house - although technically I slid.

I drove back to my startup and confirmed to both my friend (the investor) and the shiny tank that they seemed legit.

I explained how I arrived at my conclusion, and which mutual friends we had (should they also want to look them up).

I worked on the project for a few months, and while I didn’t “get” to meet the Did-meister in person, I was REALLY PROUD to say I Puffed at Puff’s house.

It wasn’t until two years later, at a house party in a place without service, that I would be truly caught off guard with another diddy experience.

The Hollywood Hills notoriously lack service - so it’s just a “thing” we all accept by going to whatever house we were invited to. You have to know exactly where you are going and ask the host for wifi when you arrive.

I was with a bunch of neighbors of mine, when I got approached by a woman who said she “needed to talk to me.”

Is this about Talk Nerdy To Me®, I wondered … no, she said, then mentioning the investor, my very dear friend by name.

WHO NO ONE KNOWS - BTW. HE’S A VERY PRIVATE PERSON.

Not wanting to walk into a situation without service, or a clue, I grabbed a female dear friend/ neighbor and said “I need you.”

Taking me very seriously, the three of us walked into a back bedroom to “talk.”

We sat down at a table in a bedroom (that was big enough to have a table in) as she said “I don’t know how to say this - so I’m just going to say it.”

Face stoic, my eyes darted to my friend - who also had NO IDEA where this was going.

“I’ve been kidnapped, and fed drugs. I was held against my will and told I couldn’t leave without being hurt. I didn’t leave - I escaped. I had to.”

For the next … what seemed like forever … we both listened to her story.

She named names, she said VERY SPECIFIC details as I sat in horror hearing this.

When I was 9 someone had tried to kidnap me in Quincy Market … but it was only an attempt because my gut knew not to go with them.

Putting myself in her shoes, if someone like Diddy invited me to a party … I wouldn’t have said no.

(This is a very “normal” neurodivergent response, btw. I relate things not to “make it about myself” but to be able to understand because I’m wired so differently.)

Neurotypical, or neurodivergent … when someone says something to you like this, at first, you’re in such a state of shock.

It was outside of the realm of possibilities I had.

I only knew things like this happened in really cheesy Lifetime Movies.

I actually expected her to tell me some random story about the investor, and we were in a private room due to how private he is.

THIS?!?!

It wasn’t random that we were at the same party (as circles are smaller in LA than people realize) - but the words she spoke, truly shook me to my core.

I never questioned if she was telling the truth. My body “felt” it and was lit up like a Christmas tree … my friend equally as shocked, also knew she was telling the truth … we just both didn’t know what to do.

I was angry, I was scared … I felt helpless, but also just PISSED.

Celebrity isn’t quite the same now as it was back then - Diddy was THE BIGGEST in terms of “artist,” producer, entrepreneur … as someone who unfortunately experienced the legal system starting at age 17, there is SO MUCH that goes into “being believed.” I couldn’t imagine the mountain she would have to climb but still logically said “you should talk to the police.”

You don’t understand what they have said (she then mentioned she had been threatened).

I’ve heard what people say about you, and I know you know that investor … she emphasized he’s not involved … THANK GOD, I thought, but didn’t say as it had no relation to what she really needed in this moment … validation.

I validated her experience by thanking her for having the strength to tell me (technically us).

I’m assuming she thought by telling me this that maybe the investor could help her legally since money talks … I’m not sure.

I do know that by her sharing her truth to us this one time … the next time she did it, she will feel stronger.

There is a power in stating your truth. While what had happened to her was truly unimaginable to both my 13 year old and 30 year old mind was VERY proud of her for sharing her experience.

If you haven’t had something criminal happen to you (congratulations, you’re most likely not a late diagnosed autistic) - it’s difficult to imagine the strength it takes to speak your own truth.

Going up against one of the most powerful men in entertainment with your version of the truth is both a psychological burden and a test of resilience. On one level, it can feel like stepping into a David and Goliath battle where the odds are stacked against you, your voice versus an empire backed by money, influence, and public perception.

Psychologically, this creates immense stress, triggering fears of retaliation, gaslighting, or being discredited. At the same time, choosing to stand firm in your truth taps into a deep well of courage and integrity.

It can be both terrifying and liberating: terrifying because of the potential consequences to your reputation or career, but liberating because you are reclaiming your narrative and refusing to let power silence you.

This clash between fear and empowerment is what makes such moments so psychologically intense, as they demand a level of self-trust strong enough to withstand not only external pressure but also the internal doubts that inevitably arise.

In the end, speaking truth to power is not just an act of defiance, it is an act of survival and a declaration that even the most powerful cannot rewrite your reality.

<tangent> I stand so strongly behind women speaking their truth that a few years ago, I enacted this “ceremony” between my girlfriends and me. At the time, I had stood up to stalking (which is how I got diagnosed with synesthesia and seeing auras - all through surveillance footage), my maid of honor filed a restraining order BY HERSELF WITHOUT LEGAL REPRESENTATION … and got it … and another bridesmaid stood her ground in a lawsuit with a billionaire. The other parties wanted to bail because they were too spooked by him - she stood her ground and got a few more sevens added to her payout.

I bought a $7 courage badge from Amazon. It’s from the Wizard of Oz and since my middle name is Dorothy, I felt I was “authoritative” enough to bestow this upon someone. I dramatically presented it and pinned it to the maid of honor, who then in turn did the same to the bridesmaid.

Over the years, I’ve given out far too many courage badges that I care to admit, but I still keep one on my backpack just as a reminder of my own journey and to the light other women have expressed that the badge has given them. </tangent>

In November 2023, much like the rest of the world, I watched (again) in horror as the news was revealed that Cassie had been abused by Diddy.

The headlines spoken by his then girlfriend and other victims who bravely came forward were nearly IDENTICAL to what I had heard years prior.

A big part of me was scared to even admit that I knew people in his circle, and that I had even been to his house before (albeit 10 am on a Tuesday).

I now recognize that fear though as a form of suppression. I did nothing wrong, she did nothing wrong - so why was I so afraid?

Because that’s what this type of abuse is meant to do - silence.

I had no idea the that residual effect that that could have, until yesterday, remembering he was going to be sentenced today.

Her truth became part of my story, and my story needed to be heard because people like this exist, and they can only continue to operate in the shadows. Shining a light is the first step to stopping them.