In her bombshell abuse lawsuit, singer Casandra “Cassie” Ventura accused Sean Combs of controlling and isolating her, regularly assaulting her, and coercing her into sexual acts with other men during their long-term relationship. The suit, which was settled within a day after being filed in November, mentioned many friends, assistants, security guards, and Bad Boy Entertainment staff who allegedly saw some of the abuse.
Red, a Grammy-winning singer-songwriter who has written songs for Zendaya, Joe Jonas, Jason Derulo, and Tamar Braxton, among others, wrote an open letter to Sean Combs to back up the claims of abuse Ventura made against the hip-hop mogul. Red is still a close friend of Ventura’s, and they met while working on Ventura’s second album, which was never released. Red says she was there on the night of Ventura’s 29th birthday party in August 2015, when Ventura claimed Combs and his security guards “cornered” and “forced” her to leave because Combs wanted her to join in sexual activity with other men.
Red says she felt scared and helpless as she saw Combs yell and swear at Ventura on the night of her party. She says she tried to intervene for Ventura when Combs, who was “intoxicated” and angry, insisted Ventura go with him. She says she later found out what happened when Combs took Ventura away that night, and it “shocked her to the core.”
When Rolling Stone contacted Combs’s representative with a detailed list of questions, they referred to a previous statement. Combs wrote, “Enough is enough. For the last couple of weeks, I have sat silently and watched people try to kill my character, ruin my reputation and my legacy. Horrible accusations have been made against me by individuals looking for a quick payday. Let me be very clear: I did not do any of the terrible things being alleged. I will fight for my name, my family and for the truth.”
Red has quietly backed up her friend for years and even took on the role of her manager when Ventura tried to restart her career and break free from Combs professionally in 2019. But Ventura found out that her termination deal depended on a nondisparagement clause. Now, Red is speaking up to tell of the trauma of witnessing that night and share her hopes that others will be free to tell their stories.
Dear Sean Combs,
I’m stepping forward to recount my experience as a witness to events detailed in my friend Casandra Ventura’s now-settled civil lawsuit against you. I’m breaking my silence, freeing myself from haunting recollections, standing in solidarity with Cassie, and standing up for myself. I fear for my safety as her suit alludes to me, although not by name. I hope that revealing my identity to the public will afford me some measure of protection
Cassie and I became friends in 2015 while co-writing songs for her album that you never released. We remain close to this very day. I’m one of the friends mentioned in her lawsuit, specifically from the night of her 29th birthday, as detailed in the section labeled “Mr. Combs Forces Ms. Ventura Into Sex Trafficking.”
The weight is heavy as I gather my thoughts to articulate these distressing memories. Physical reactions — the surge of heat on my face, sweaty palms, racing heart, and the onset of a panic attack — serve as stark reminders of the toll it’s taking. I am traumatized by you. The burden of vocalizing these experiences should never have been mine or anyone else’s.
I first met you in person in August 2015 at a surprise party you threw for Cassie’s 29th birthday at a hotel in Los Angeles. I was at her old apartment before the party with friends in the Wilshire Corridor Condos, right down the street from your home. Rushed by calls from your team about her ETA, we were in a frenzy to get her ready without spoiling the surprise. We all piled into a black car service from her place to the party.
We arrived at the area reserved for her party at the hotel, and you popped out singing “Happy Birthday.” There were many friends, a few famous faces, and cameras recording as we sang. She was definitely surprised.
Eventually, we all started to mingle around the room. Up until that point, I’d only spoken to you once before on FaceTime with Cassie about songs we were working on together. You approached me and introduced yourself, saying, “So you’re the one writing all these songs about me?” I said yes, and you stared back and said, “That means she’s talking to you, huh?” I was uncomfortable because it seemed like you were talking about the more turbulent parts of your relationship.
We did a song called “Loyal” that you didn’t like. We were writing about her pain. In the first verse of that song, she sings, “I don’t know what is real, I just know how I feel, and you keep acting like you don’t know what you did wrong, trying to get me to chill. Since we ain’t been together, I been on some whatever.” She was pushing back in that song. You later came back up to me and said you were playing. I didn’t believe you. One of your security guards did something similar. I’d never met him before, either. He approached me and said, “I heard a lot about you, Tiffany.” You both creeped me out, and this interaction was super intimidating. It felt like you both wanted me to know that you knew who I was and you didn’t like how close I was to her.
Later that evening, after being at the party since it started that afternoon, Cassie wanted to go to a karaoke spot called Blind Dragon on Sunset Boulevard with some friends. You were not happy that she was leaving. I remember your people hovering around us, trying to discourage Cassie from leaving, but we went anyway. You followed us and arrived just a little bit after we did. It was instantly uncomfortable. You pulled Cassie out of the private karaoke room; she put her head down and went with you. I followed to see if she was OK because something was off. When I walked out of the room, you had her backed into a corner in the hallway outside of the door, and your security surrounded you two as you cursed her out with your hands in her face. She and I briefly made eye contact. I felt helpless. She looked afraid and kept looking down at the floor. I didn’t know what to do. I was scared.
Karaoke was cut short because you wanted her to leave with you. Cassie asked me and two other friends if we’d meet her back at her place and stay the night. She was stopping at her house first to grab a bag and then going with you. I said yes because I was worried you would hurt her. Prior to this incident, she had confided in me that you were physically abusive, and the way you were in her face that night was alarming to me. I didn’t want to leave her alone.
When we got back to her house, she kept saying to us she didn’t want to go with you, but you were already on your way to pick her up. One of our friends was packing an overnight bag for her. I’ll never forget it; it was the biggest Birkin bag I’d ever seen. It was blue. I kept asking why they were packing her stuff if she clearly said she didn’t want to go with you, and this person said, “She always goes.” You arrived at the door and whisked her away. Cassie looked uneasy. I didn’t know where you were taking her. Once you left, the person who packed the bag said, “They’ll be back; watch.” It was almost like they had seen this movie before.
A few hours later, I was woken up by you screaming, “Emotional singing bitch, where are you?!” You and Cassie were back, it was around 3 or 4 a.m. When I walked out of her bedroom where I was asleep, you yelled, “Emotional singing bitch, there you are.” I was mortified, humiliated, and scared when I realized you were talking to me. You were visibly intoxicated, and so was Cassie. She appeared sedated and very withdrawn. It was the first time I saw her this way. You started screaming at us, “Tell your girl she wants some birthday dick. I flew all the way from Miami. She gone get this birthday dick!” You were visibly angry that she didn’t want that from you. I was terrified; I said, “She doesn’t have to have sex with you if she doesn’t want to.” You just kept screaming, “She gone get this dick.” All I kept thinking about was how, before you came to get her and she was sober, she kept telling us she didn’t want to go with you.
You two left her place in chaos on a golf cart and drove off into the night. We watched you from her balcony, driving toward your house. I thought you were going to get pulled over and go to jail or crash from being so high. It was like a real-life scary movie. I was terrified for Cassie and completely traumatized. She later told me you made her have a “Freak Off”— which Cassie described in her lawsuit as an “arrangement” where you would make her perform sexual acts with male sex workers — that night. The reason you called me “emotional singing bitch” was because you were listening to new songs we wrote during the “Freak Off” that had begun after you came to get her earlier that night. I am disturbed to my core by this. It makes me think it must have been songs Cassie hadn’t recorded yet that were still demos. I can’t begin to explain how it makes me feel thinking about my voice playing in the background of that nightmare.
Throughout my time knowing Cassie, I’ve seen many concerning instances. There were occasions when I heard you yelling at her and making threats, observed her so high I was afraid of her overdosing at a party you threw for her in Malibu, and witnessed both of you getting IVs after a different night of partying. Additionally, when I was part of her management team in 2019 — a year after she was able to leave you — I saw you try to silence her by attempting to tie a nondisparagement clause to her record deal termination agreement, which felt unjust.
With Cassie bravely sharing her story, I’m finally free to share mine. That night of her birthday, and so many others, are burned in my brain and have tormented me since. I feel compelled to show up for Cassie and myself and confirm that everything she described in her complaint about what happened that night is consistent with what I experienced. Cassie and I became close while writing songs together nearly a decade ago. One of our friends used to call us “TiffAndra.” Never could I have imagined this is how it would turn out. The music I helped create for her suffered due to these events, compounding the trauma. It’s devastating. I still mourn that time in my songwriting career.
I continue to work through the PTSD, paranoia, and anxiety from these events. It’s one of the catalysts for my advocacy for music creatives today with my organization, The 100 Percenters. Your abuse of power has inflicted ongoing harm on countless individuals, including myself, my friends, and my peers. You are a literal pillar in Black music. So many of us looked up to you. This moment hurts for us, too, but no one deserves to endure all this, Puff. It’s not right. You’re hurting the very Black and brown people you say you love and support. It pains me to write this letter to you as a Black woman, but when will this cycle of abuse stop? It has to stop.
Recent events, such as the unveiling of accusations against numerous former record label CEOs and artists for sexual assault due to the Adult Survivors Act in New York, underscore the gravity of the situation. The systemic issues of rape culture and misogyny deeply entrenched in the music industry pose a real threat to so many people’s safety every day in this business. How can we expect meaningful change when senior leadership and superstars face accusations of these crimes?
The power imbalance makes it nearly impossible to fight back and terrifying to speak up. But despite that, here I am, standing beside my friend. There are moments in life when some of us have to face the hard choice of speaking truth to power or not. This is one of those moments.
