Why didn’t she leave? How could she stay so long? Why didn’t she say no?
These questions are on repeat in the high-profile trial of Sean “Diddy” Combs. The disgraced music mogul stands accused of sex trafficking — coercing sex acts through a long-standing pattern of physical, sexual, and psychological abuse. But if you listen to much of the coverage — on television, radio or social media — you might think it’s Cassie Ventura, not Combs who’s on trial.
As both national director of America’s largest anti-trafficking coalition and former chief of the Sex Trafficking Unit at the Brooklyn DA’s Office, I’ve seen this pattern far too often: survivors disbelieved, trauma scrutinized, and abuse framed as “consensual.”
A quick glance at social media showcases an avalanche of comments claiming Cassie invited the violence and if she truly wanted to leave she would have. This flawed narrative is not only damaging to Cassie, but dangerous for victims everywhere.
Cassie’s account is a textbook example of sex trafficking. She explained how Combs began grooming her when she was just 19 and he was 37, leveraging his massive power in the music industry to draw her in. This age gap, combined with wealth and influence, created a significant power imbalance. This wasn’t a relationship built on consent…but rather coercive control.
Cassie detailed drug-fueled, around-the-clock commercial sex acts, extreme physical violence and severe intimidation. The abuse was so cruel and undeniable that Diddy’s defense conceded it from the outset. Cassie testified Combs surveilled her constantly, had access to guns and threatened to release life-destroying blackmail videos. These tactics systematically stripped Cassie of her sense of safety and left her emotionally trapped.
Beyond the physical abuse, Cassie endured a steady drumbeat of insidious threats that sent an unmistakable message: the violence could escalate at any moment. One of the most chilling examples is the allegation that Combs blew up a car belonging to someone Cassie had been seen speaking to — a calculated act of intimidation to showcase exactly the danger he was capable of.
As a former prosecutor, I’ve seen how traffickers use terror tactics to enforce compliance. In one case I worked on, a defendant caught a mouse, held it by the tail, and slowly dipped it into a toilet in front of the victim — nearly drowning it. He didn’t need to say a word. Like Combs’ car explosion, the message was crystal clear: This is what will happen to you if you don’t obey.
Another time, a victim wanted me to know she often thought of leaving this life. She even attempted several times. But, every time she packed her bags, just as she made it to the door, her trafficker would coldly recite the address where her little sister went to after-care. The message was simple, but chillingly unambiguous.
So, when people wonder why Cassie never left, the answer is not quite so simple. One of the most difficult issues to grapple with is how genuine fear could co-exist with the loving, eager tone of some of Cassie’s texts and communications to Diddy.
People understandably wonder how a woman could express such enthusiasm and affection toward a violent man she feared. The answer lies in our growing understanding of how “coercive control” — a hallmark of intimate partner violence — works. Affection and abuse are not mutually exclusive.
Speak with most sex trafficking survivors, and they’ll tell you that traffickers rely on entangling emotions. The weaving in-and-out of affection, dependency, confusion and fear is not accidental. Its a deliberate tactic of deepening control. If a person was purely cruel every moment, the manipulation wouldn’t work. That emotional whiplash creates the powerful psychological tie that makes leaving feel not only difficult, but dangerous.
There remains harmful expectations that if a victim doesn’t fight back or resist unequivocally, she must have consented to the abuse. But Cassie’s inability to escape wasn’t a sign of consent; it was evidence of how deep Combs’ control ran.
While I hope Diddy’s jury examines the overwhelming evidence — the videos, photo and testimony — to see it for exactly what it is, my deeper hope is that, as a society, we begin shifting our reflexes. The knee-jerk reaction to doubt and blame victims must end. Every time we dismiss survivors or excuse abusers’ actions, we reinforce the systems enabling violence and exploitation to flourish.
It’s time to stop giving a free pass to the powerful and start holding them accountable — not just in courtrooms, but throughout our culture.
Hersh is the national director of World Without Exploitation and the former chief of the Brooklyn DA’s Sex Trafficking Unit.
