Inside the Brooklyn federal jail where Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs is locked up: violence, squalor and death

NEW YORK (AP) — As they unsuccessfully fought to keep Sean “Diddy” Combs out of jail after his sex trafficking arrest, the music mogul’s lawyers highlighted a litany of horrors at the Brooklyn federal lockup where he was headed: horrific conditions, rampant violence and multiple deaths.

Combs, 54, was sent to the Metropolitan Detention Center in Brooklyn on Tuesday — a place that’s been described as “hell on earth” and an “ongoing tragedy” — after pleading not guilty in a case that accuses him of physically and sexually abusing women for more than a decade.

The facility, the only federal jail in New York City, has been plagued by problems since it opened in the 1990s. In recent years, its conditions have been so stark that some judges have refused to send people there. It has also been home to a number of high-profile inmates, including R. Kelly, Ghislaine Maxwell and cryptocurrency fraudster Sam Bankman-Fried.

In a statement, the federal Bureau of Prisons said: “We also take seriously addressing the staffing and other challenges at MDC Brooklyn.” An agency team is working to fix problems, including by adding permanent correctional and medical staff, remedying more than 700 backlogged maintenance requests and answering judges' concerns.

A judge on Wednesday denied a request by Combs' lawyers to let him await trial under house arrest at his $48 million mansion on an island in Miami Beach, Florida.

Here are some important things to know about the jail:

The Bureau of Prisons opened the facility, known as MDC Brooklyn, as a jail in the early 1990s.

It’s used mainly for post-arrest detention for people awaiting trial in federal courts in Manhattan or Brooklyn. Other inmates are there to serve short sentences following convictions.

The facility, in an industrial area on the Brooklyn waterfront, has about 1,200 detainees, down from more than 1,600 in January. It has outdoor recreation facilities, a medical unit with examination rooms and a dental suite. It has a separate wing for educational programs and the jail’s library.

The Bureau of Prisons closed its crumbling Metropolitan Correctional Center in Manhattan in 2021, leaving MDC Brooklyn as its only facility in the nation’s largest city.

Detainees have long complained about rampant violence, dreadful conditions, severe staffing shortages and the widespread smuggling of drugs and other contraband, some of it facilitated by employees. At the same time, they say they’ve been subject to frequent lockdowns and have been barred from leaving their cells for visits, calls, showers or exercise.

In June, Uriel Whyte, 37, was stabbed to death at the jail. A month later, Edwin Cordero, 36, died after he was hurt in a brawl. At least four people detained at the jail have died by suicide in the last three years.

Cordero’s lawyer, Andrew Dalack, told The New York Times his client was just the victim of “an overcrowded, understaffed and neglected federal jail that is hell on earth.”

At least six MDC Brooklyn staff members have been charged with crimes in the last five years. Some were accused of accepting bribes or providing contraband such as drugs, cigarettes, and cellphones, according to an Associated Press analysis of agency-related arrests.

MDC Brooklyn has also come under fire for its response to debilitating infrastructure breakdowns and the COVID-19 pandemic. In 2019, a week-long power failure sparked unrest among shivering inmates and drew concerns from federal watchdogs. In March 2020, the jail had the first federal inmate to test positive for COVID-19.

As of last November, according to court filings, MDC Brooklyn was operating at about 55% of full staffing, which was taxing to employees and added to its security woes.

Judges and advocates have taken notice, excoriating the Bureau of Prisons for “dangerous, barbaric conditions” and pressing the agency to make improvements. Some judges have moved away from sending defendants to MDC Brooklyn or have given reduced sentences because of the conditions there.

In January, U.S. District Judge Furman took the rare step of allowing Gustavo Chavez, 70, to remain free on bail after his conviction for drug crimes rather than locking him up at the Brooklyn jail to await sentencing.

“Prosecutors no longer even put up a fight, let alone dispute that the state of affairs is unacceptable,” Furman wrote.

In August, U.S. District Judge Gary Brown said he would vacate a 75-year-old defendant’s nine-month sentence for tax fraud and place him on home confinement if the Bureau of Prisons sent him to MDC Brooklyn.

In response, the Bureau of Prisons said it had “temporarily paused” sending any defendants convicted of crimes to the jail to serve their sentences. In a statement Tuesday, the agency said 43 people were currently serving sentences in a minimum-security unit at the jail.

Combs is just the latest celebrity inmate to be locked up at MDC Brooklyn, joining a list that includes Maxwell, Kelly, Bankman-Fried and the rapper Fetty Wap.

Other high-profile detainees have included Pharma Bro Martin Shkreli, NXIVM sex cult founder Keith Raniere, former Mexican government official Genaro Garcia Luna and ex-Honduran President Juan Orlando Hernandez Alvarado.

The Metropolitan Correctional Center in Manhattan closed in 2021 after a slew of problems that came to light after Jeffrey Epstein’s suicide there two years earlier.

The jail — next to the courthouse where Combs was arraigned — was plagued by lax security, severe staffing shortages and squalid, unsafe conditions including falling concrete, freezing temperatures and busted cells.

People detained at the facility were relocated to MDC Brooklyn or a medium-security prison in Otisville, New York.

Combs’ lawyers argued in paperwork seeking his release that the Metropolitan Detention Center is not fit for pretrial detention. They cited recent detainee deaths, and the concerns shared by judges that the jail is no place for anyone to be held.

Asked about keeping a high-profile inmate like Combs locked up, particularly in light of Epstein’s 2019 death, Manhattan-based U.S. Attorney Damian Williams said: “We are concerned with anyone’s safety whenever they are detained prior to trial.”

“I do not draw any sort of connection between Jeffrey Epstein’s suicide and what may or may not happen to any other defendant while they are detained pretrial,” he added.

Combs' lawyer, Marc Agnifilo, said Wednesday that the rapper is being held in MDC Brooklyn's special housing unit, which offers an extra layer of security but can make trial preparation more onerous. He asked that Combs be moved to a New Jersey jail, but a judge said it's up to the Bureau of Prisons to decide.

An ongoing Associated Press investigation has uncovered deep, previously unreported flaws within the Bureau of Prisons, an agency with more than 30,000 employees, 158,000 inmates, 122 facilities and an annual budget of about $8 billion.

AP reporting has revealed dozens of escapes, chronic violence, deaths and severe staffing shortages that have hampered responses to emergencies, including inmate assaults and suicides.

In April, the Bureau of Prisons said it was closing its women’s prison in Dublin, California, known as the “rape club,” giving up on attempts to reform the facility after an AP investigation exposed staff-on-inmate sexual abuse.

This story has been corrected to remove a reference to Michael Cohen, who served time at a different federal prison facility.

Follow Sisak at x.com/mikesisak and Balsamo at x.com/MikeBalsamo1 and send confidential tips by visiting https://www.ap.org/tips/.

Depicted in this courtroom sketch, Sean "Diddy" Combs, left, sits at the defense table with one of his attorneys, Teny Garagos, during his bail hearing, Wednesday, Sept. 18, 2024, in New York. (Elizabeth Williams via AP)

Assistant U.S. Attorney Emily Johnson, left, presents her argument for remand during a bail hearing for Sean "Diddy" Combs, second from right, in federal court, Wednesday, Sept. 18, 2024, in New York. Combs was accompanied by his attorneys Marc Agnifilo, second from left, and Teny Garagos. (Elizabeth Williams via AP)

Marc Agnifilo, attorney for Sean "Diddy" Combs, speaks to the media after leaving Manhattan federal court, Tuesday, Sept. 17, 2024, in New York. (AP Photo/Pamela Smith)

Marc Agnifilo, attorney for Sean "Diddy" Combs, speaks to the media outside Manhattan federal court after Combs was ordered held without bail in his federal sex trafficking case, Tuesday, Sept. 17, 2024, in New York. (AP Photo/Eduardo Munoz Alvarez)

In this courtroom sketch, Magistrate Judge Robyn Tarnofsky presides during a hearing for Sean Combs, Tuesday Sept. 17, 2024,, in Manhattan Federal Court in New York. (Elizabeth Williams via AP)

In this courtroom sketch, Sean Combs, seated right, looks at his attorney, Marc Agnifilo, left, as he delivers his bail argument as Combs' family in the gallery, background, raise their hands indicating to Judge Tarnofsky that they are in attendance, to bolster the defense attorney's bail argument, Tuesday, Sept. 17, 2024, in Manhattan Federal Court in New York. (Elizabeth Williams via AP)

In this courtroom sketch, Sean Combs, center, is flanked by his defense attorney Marc Agnifilo, left, and Teny Garagos, in Manhattan Federal Court, Tuesday, Sept. 17, 2024, in New York. (Elizabeth Williams via AP)

FILE -Sean 'Diddy' Combs participates in "The Four" panel during the FOX Television Critics Association Winter Press Tour in Pasadena, Calif., Jan. 4, 2018. (Photo by Richard Shotwell/Invision/AP, File)

FILE - The Metropolitan Detention Center in the Brooklyn borough of New York is shown Tuesday, July 14, 2020. (AP Photo/John Minchillo, File)

FILE - Media outlets set up cameras outside the main entrance of the Metropolitan Detention Center Tuesday, July 14, 2020, in the Brooklyn borough of New York. (AP Photo/John Minchillo, File)

DUNBARTON, N.H. (AP) — It's harvest time in central New Hampshire, and one farm there appears to have been transplanted from a distant continent.

Farmers balance large crates laden with vegetables on their heads while chatting in Somali and other languages. As the sun burns away the early morning mist, the farmers pick American staples like corn and tomatoes as well as crops they grew up with, like okra and sorrel. Many of the women wear vibrant orange, red and blue fabrics.

Most workers at this Dunbarton farm are refugees who have escaped harrowing wars and persecution. They come from the African nations of Burundi, Rwanda, Somalia and Congo, and they now run their own small businesses, selling their crops to local markets as well as to friends and connections in their ethnic communities. Farming provides them with both an income and a taste of home.

“I like it in the USA. I have my own job," says Somali refugee and farmer Khadija Aliow as she hams it up by sashaying past a reporter, using one hand to steady the crate of crops on her head and the other to give a thumbs-up. "Happy. I’m so happy.”

The farm is owned by a New Hampshire-based nonprofit, the Organization for Refugee and Immigrant Success, which lets the farmers use plots of land and provides them with training and support. The organization runs similar farms in Concord and the nearby town of Boscawen.

In all, 36 people from five African countries, including South Sudan, and the Asian nation of Nepal work on the farms. Many were farmers in their home countries before coming to the U.S. or had previous experience with agriculture, said Tom McGee, a program director with the nonprofit.

“These are farmers who are basically independent business owners, who are working in partnership with our organization to be able to bring this produce to life in this country," he said. "And to have another sense of purpose, and a way that they can bring themselves into the community, and belong. And really participate in the American dream.”

The nonprofit runs a food market in Manchester, where people can buy fresh produce or sign up to have boxes delivered. McGee said there are a few other programs with similar aims scattered throughout the U.S. but that the model remains relatively rare. He said his organization relies on state and federal funding, as well as private donations.

Farmer Sylvain Bukasa said he escaped in 2000 from the decades-long conflict in Congo that has resulted in millions of deaths. He spent six years with his wife and son in a refugee camp in Tanzania before being accepted into the U.S. in 2006.

“I was worried for my safety,” he said. “I decided to just go somewhere where it's a little bit safer.”

Bukasa said he has worked hard since arriving in the U.S. and relishes his new life. But at first he missed the foods he grew up with. He could only find them in specialized markets, where they tended to be expensive and of poor quality.

“Back home we ate more vegetables and less meat,” he said. “When we came here it's more chicken, more pizza, things like that. They taste good, but it's not good for you.”

Bukasa started growing crops on the farm in 2011. The initial plan on the Dunbarton farm was to allow migrants like him to grow traditional crops for themselves and their families. But demand grew, particularly during the pandemic, prompting the farm's evolution into a commercial operation.

For a few of the farmers, the harvest provides their primary income. For most, like Bukasa, it's a side gig. He works fulltime as a service agent for a rental car company and travels whenever he can to tend his plot of just over an acre (0.4 hectares). The biggest challenges are making sure his crops are adequately watered and stopping the weeds from taking over, he said.

Mondays are harvest days, and on a recent Monday, Bukasa listed the crops he was picking: tomatoes, summer squash, zucchini, kale, corn, okra, and the leaves from pumpkins and sorrel — which he and the other migrants call sour-sour because of its taste.

He said there's a surprisingly large Congolese community throughout New England, and they appreciate what he grows.

“It's a hard job, but hard work is good work,” Bukasa said. “It’s fun and it helps people. I like when I satisfy people with the food that they eat."

His dream is to one day buy his own farm with a couple of acres of land, so he can walk out his front door to tend to his crops rather than driving 20 minutes like he does now. A more immediate challenge, he said, is to work on the marketing side of his business.

He's got to the point where he now grows more food than he’s able to sell, and he hates seeing any of it go to waste. One idea is to buy a van, so he can deliver more produce himself.

“You see the competition in there,” he says with a grin, motioning toward the tent where other refugee farmers wash and pack their crops. “See how many farmers are trying to sell their produce.”

Vegetables picked and packaged that morning are loaded onto a delivery truck at Fresh Start Farm, Aug. 19, 2024, in Dunbarton, N.H. (AP Photo/Charles Krupa)

Farmer Sylvain Bukasa, a refugee from Democratic Republic of the Congo, chats with a fellow farmer Khamis Khamis, a refugee from Somalia, while harvesting vegetables at Fresh Start Farm, Aug. 19, 2024, in Dunbarton, N.H. (AP Photo/Charles Krupa)

Refugee farmers and program staff sort and package vegetables picked earlier in the morning at Fresh Start Farm, Aug. 19, 2024, in Dunbarton, N.H. (AP Photo/Charles Krupa)

Farmer Sylvain Bukasa, a refugee from Democratic Republic of the Congo, takes freshly harvested peppers out of a cleaning tub to be air dried prior to packaging at Fresh Start Farm, Aug. 19, 2024, in Dunbarton, N.H. (AP Photo/Charles Krupa)

A packing platform is sanitized as harvested vegetables begin to arrive at a processing greenhouse at Fresh Start Farm, Aug. 19, 2024, in Dunbarton, N.H. (AP Photo/Charles Krupa)

Farmer Khadija Aliow, a refugee from Somali, carries vegetables grown on her plot to be cleaned and packaged at Fresh Start Farm, Aug. 19, 2024, in Dunbarton, N.H. (AP Photo/Charles Krupa)

Farmer Sylvain Bukasa, a refugee from Democratic Republic of the Congo, harvests chard at his greenhouse at Fresh Start Farm, Aug. 19, 2024, in Dunbarton, N.H. (AP Photo/Charles Krupa)

A selection of squash, left, and eggplant, right, are stacked after being washed to be packaged for a community share program at Fresh Start Farm, Aug. 19, 2024, in Dunbarton, N.H. (AP Photo/Charles Krupa)

Farmer Sylvain Bukasa, a refugee from Democratic Republic of the Congo, smiles while showing the beets grown on his plot at Fresh Start Farm, Aug. 19, 2024, in Dunbarton, N.H. (AP Photo/Charles Krupa)

Farmer Alsi Yussuf, a refugee from Somalia, carries freshly picked tomatoes while harvesting vegetables for a community share program at Fresh Start Farm, Aug. 19, 2024, in Dunbarton, N.H. (AP Photo/Charles Krupa)

Farmer Alsi Yussuf, a refugee from Somalia, places freshly picked tomatoes from her greenhouse into a carrying box before they are cleaned and packaged at Fresh Start Farm, Aug. 19, 2024, in Dunbarton, N.H. (AP Photo/Charles Krupa)

Farmer Sylvain Bukasa, a refugee from Democratic Republic of the Congo, harvests corn on his plot at Fresh Start Farm, Aug. 19, 2024, in Dunbarton, N.H. (AP Photo/Charles Krupa)