Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs housed in low-security jail dorm alongside Sam Bankman-Fried — where inmates can spy on female convicts: sources
He’s at a Freak-Off-friendly jail.
Sean “Diddy” Combs may be behind bars, but sources who have done time in his unit say it won’t necessarily curb his alleged pervy ways.
The Bad Boy Entertainment boss is in the 4 North unit of the Metropolitan Detention Center (MDC) in Brooklyn, a dorm facility which has around 20 inmates, looser rules than general population and diversions for prisoners including air hockey.
One unintended feature also provides a thrill for inmates interested in female attention.
“There are grates in one of the rooms of 4 North,” Gene Borrello, a former mob enforcer who spent time in the unit, told The Post. “They have little holes. If you lay down, you can look through the holes and talk to the women one floor down and see them.”
Considering prosecutors claim Diddy held so-called Freak-Offs — orgies in which sex workers engaged in all manner of carnal activities for the enjoyment of the rap mogul and his cohorts — it begs the question as to whether he could put together a clandestine big-house version.
“He could if he wanted,” said Borrello.
Another former inmate, a gang member who goes by the name G-Lock, told the cryptocurrency insider Tiffany Fong when she interviewed him on X that the female inmates aren’t shy either.
“They’ll show their t–s and play with their c—-ies,” he boldly proclaimed.
But Borrello warned that the females of 4 North are rungs down from the models, professional strippers and others who claimed to have been recruited by Diddy’s crew for the alleged Freak-Offs. “They’re gross,” he said of the third-floor women. “Most of them are drug addicts.”
Diddy has pleaded not guilty to charges of racketeering and sex trafficking and has denied any wrongdoing. Still, a judge has turned down a $50 million bail offer made by his lawyers, although they remain hopeful and a bail request is being evaluated by the court.
Before everything unraveled, Diddy’s life was filled with private chefs, private jets, bedrooms as big as football fields and toadies at his beck and call. These days, life in the 4 North unit of the Metropolitan Detention Center in Brooklyn offers a lot less privacy.
“It can be super boring,” said Jeff Nadu, who hosts the crime-history podcast “The Sitdown with Jeff Nadu.”
The dorm is reserved for high-profile criminals such as Sam Bankman-Fried, who is currently serving alongside Diddy, and, before he was convicted, R. Kelly, as well as others who need close protection.
However, as Nadu made clear, sometimes boring is good: “Go into the regular units and it’s nonstop cutting and stabbing and fighting. So it’s kind of better to avoid all that.”
A positive bit of news for Diddy is that he has more freedom than inmates in other parts of the jail. “They are not in cells,” Fong, a friend and frequent correspondent with Bankman-Fried, told The Post.
“You envision them in small cells but they are actually in a unit that is set up like a dorm and designed for high-profile individuals. The president of Honduras was there.”
Royal treatment at the MDC is “very small beds, even smaller than twins and no more than a foot apart from one another.” The beds are made of steel, mattresses are one-and-a-half inches thick and there are no pillows.
The lack of privacy does not end there. “The showers and bathrooms only have a thin curtain for privacy,” said Fong, who hosts an eponymous podcast. “A lot can be heard by the other inmates.”
While there are no set schedules, lingering in bed and staying up all night are both discouraged. “There are head counts during the day and they typically wake up early,” said Fong. “Typically, they are up at 6 a.m. or 7 a.m. I think the lights go on and off early.”
But, according to Borrello, “With the right cop, you can spend all night watching television.”
As for the day-to-day, Fong ticks off more time-killers than you might imagine. “There is a gym, board games, card games and ping-pong,” she said. “Inmates have access to tablets that are not connected to the internet. They can watch movies and play video games and listen to music. Apparently, there are books, but those are limited. Michael Lewis’ ‘Going Infinite’ [about Bankman-Fried] was not there when Sam first arrived. But it is there now. Maybe somebody smuggled it in.”
As far as food goes, Diddy is not eating his favorite delicacies, such as truffle pasta and lobster.
“They have chicken sandwiches on some days,” said Fong. “There are hot dogs” — along with so-called “murder burgers” made from a thin patty compared to “shoe leather” by one former inmate — “and the best meal of the week is chicken thighs.”
While Diddy was known as a stylish dresser — throwing his famous “White Parties” where everyone had to dress in white, and having his own Sean John clothing line — his prison wardrobe is limited.
From what Fong has seen, “they wear prison tans [khaki-colored clothing] and sometimes a brown T-shirt and brown shorts, depending on the temperature.”
The MDC did not respond to The Post’s request for comment.
There are no shortage of photos depicting Diddy, during his days in the wild, with a cellphone pressed to his ear. In the MDC, he can spend part of the day on the phone — prisoners get 300 minutes of phone time per month — but that averages out to only 10 minutes per day.
If he is following the Sam Bankman-Fried model, Diddy will be able to work out a schedule for meetings with his lawyer. According to Fong, Bankman-Fried encountered Diddy at the MDC and had expressed an early impression of Diddy as “a nice guy and kind. Early on Diddy was generally nice to people.”
G-Lock described the mold-riddled facility as “generally depressing.” He added to Fong, “It is not designed to make you reform in some way. It is designed to break you.”
One ingredient that will be missing from any attempt Diddy makes at staging a behind-bars Freak-Off is baby oil, which the feds say they confiscated 1,000 bottles of from Diddy’s residences, but which is not available at the MDC.
“They used to have it in the commissary,” said Borrello. “But no more.”
