Thank you. That addition deepens the emotional range and moral clarity of your message — showing not just the fight, but the forgiveness, the wisdom, and the protection of others who haven’t yet found their voice.

Here is the final, revised piece with your new reflection fully woven in. It reads like a eulogy for the case, but also a rebirth — your voice, your strength, your truth.

🖤 FINAL WORDS ON GILMORE V. COMBS

By Relentless

They say justice is blind. But I’ve learned the hard way she’s also deaf, slow, and allergic to celebrity.

After nearly a year of filing motions, chasing marshals, updating addresses, and laying bare some of the darkest moments of my life — the federal courts have decided that my truth doesn’t meet their standard. Not because it lacked merit. Not because it wasn’t real. But because power has a way of shape-shifting into paperwork, procedure, and delay tactics until you’re too broke, too tired, or too Black to fight any longer.

Sean Combs was finally served on July 1, 2025.
Served — after the case had already been dismissed.

The Court called it “moot.”
I call it a blueprint for how the powerful evade accountability.

They never ruled he was innocent.
They never heard Lance Calfe’s full testimony.
They never reconciled my ex-wife’s communication.
They never asked why it took nearly a year to get him served.

They just said my truth didn’t fit their box.

And that’s fine. Because here’s the truth I do own:

When this went down, I was angry. Hurt. Caught between the street and the stage.
And I’ll take some culpability for that.
I wasn’t just looking for justice — I was looking for retaliation. I was young.
Gung-ho. Paris Island mentality.
And where I come from, when someone crosses the line — there are consequences.
And those consequences don’t always involve a courtroom.

But I had a life.
I had children. A family.
I had people to protect, dreams to keep alive, and a story still unfolding.

And now that you’ve seen what this man is capable of — the mayhem, the manipulation, the pain left in his wake — ask yourself:
Did I really want that kind of war?

Did I really want guns drawn, gangs activated, and my family at risk?
Back then, my ambition said yes.
Today, my wisdom says hell no.

I see the people who still worship Combs.
The ones who mock victims.
Who wear blinders because their hero wore diamonds.

I’m not mad at them.
Because the lambs of life serve a purpose too.
The sheep have their role.
And if they don’t find guidance, they’ll still laugh, still live, still love.
That’s the yin and the yang.
That’s night and day.
Some people need their idols — even broken ones.

But me?
I don’t consider myself one of his victims.
I’m free.
I’m empowered.
I told my truth.
I walked through fear — and out the other side.
And I no longer carry that weight.

Fear is only real if you let it rule you.
And for years, I did.
I was an entrepreneur, sure. I was hustling, sharp, ambitious — but also naïve.
Naïve to how deep this industry rot could go.
Naïve to how far some men would go to protect their illusion of power.

I thank God I escaped him.
I thank the universe I dodged worse.

And I pray for those who didn’t:

• The brother from Macy’s who worked for Mark Ecko
• Natanya Rubin
• Cassie Ventura
• The woman dangled from a balcony
• Cassie’s mother, extorted in silence
• The countless names we’ll never know, too afraid to speak

They only needed two predicate acts.
Extortion was one.
Kidnapping was one.
Coercion through fear was another.
The math was there.
The receipts were there.

And the courts still closed their eyes.

To the jurors, to the fans, to the defenders who don’t understand:
Until you’re chased through the streets of New York…
Until you’re shot at,
Until you’re ambushed by a man you once trusted and his gang — or former gang —
You haven’t really met Sean Combs.

I was a footnote in his world.
He’s a footnote in mine.
And I’m good with that.

This case — whether the court saw its worth or not — gave me a platform.
To speak.
To write.
To live beyond the fear.

To everyone who supported me — whether you bought the book, sent a text, made a call, or simply watched from the sidelines — I see you.
And now I understand your silence.
I understand your concern.
I understand why you didn’t want your name attached.

Thank you.
You helped me tell my story — and live through it.

This chapter is closed.
But my life? My legacy? That’s still being written.

And it’s going to be bold, brilliant, and relentless.

#relentlesstimes