Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,
Kid Cudi arrives at federal court in Manhattan on May 22, 2025, ahead of his testimony in Sean “Diddy” Combs’s trial.
He wore a black leather jacket, white T-shirt, and blue jeans — surprisingly casual for court.
Cudi:
Yeah, I remember that night like it was yesterday. Cassie called me — middle of December, way past midnight. She was freaked out. Voice shaking. Told me Diddy found out about us.
She kept repeating:
“I don’t know what he’s gonna do... I don’t know what he’s gonna do.”
Then she says — she gave him my address.
Said it slipped out in the middle of a fight.
Man…
I didn’t even think. I threw on clothes, got in my car, picked her up. We dipped to the Sunset Marquis. Tried to lay low.
Not long after — my phone rings again. It’s Capricorn Clark, Diddy’s assistant. She’s in tears. Says:
“He made me get in the car. We’re at your house. He’s looking for you.”
Prosecutor:
What did you do?
Cudi:
Left Cassie at the hotel. Heart racing, drove straight home. Called him on the way.
He picked up. I yelled:
“Motherf*er, are you in my house?”**
Defense:
Objection, Your Honor!
Judge Subramanian:
Overruled. Jury may consider it as context. Proceed.
Cudi:
He didn’t deny it. Didn’t apologize. Just calmly said:
“I just want to talk to you.”
When I got home, the place was wrecked. Christmas gifts torn open. My dog — locked in the bathroom, shaking. Cameras twisted. He’d been there. No doubt.
A few weeks later, my dogsitter calls:
“Your car is on fire.”
I rushed back. My Porsche 911 was torched. Interior melted. Roof blown open. And on the passenger seat? A burned bottle with a rag in it. A Molotov cocktail.
Prosecutor:
Did you report it?
Cudi:
Yeah. Cops came. Took photos. But nothing came of it. No arrests. No leads. But I knew.
Prosecutor:
Did Mr. Combs ever mention the car?
Cudi:
Yeah. We met at Soho House a few days later. He stood there like some Marvel supervillain. Offered me water twice — weirdly polite.
Said:
“We were homies. You knew that was my girl.”
I told him:
“She said you were done. I took her word for it.”
Then I asked:
“What are we gonna do about my car?”
He stared at me and said:
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Cold as ice.
Defense:
So you're suggesting my client — without evidence — committed arson?
Cudi:
I’m saying what happened. What I lived. What I felt.
Prosecutor:
Did he ever apologize?
Cudi:
Yeah. Later, he saw me again. Said:
“I want to apologize for everything.”
It caught me off guard. And yeah — maybe it gave me some peace.
But peace didn’t bring my dog back to normal. Didn’t fix the fear. Didn’t bring back the car.
Until next time,
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