Sean “Diddy” Combs, the once-untouchable hip-hop mogul whose empire spanned music, fashion and nightlife, is facing fresh setbacks behind bars. Just weeks after settling into a low-security federal prison in New Jersey, the 56-year-old rapper’s projected release date has been quietly extended by a month, shifting from May 8, 2028, to June 4, 2028. The change, first spotted on the Federal Bureau of Prisons’ inmate locator, coincides with reports of multiple infractions that have prison officials on edge. While Combs’ team vehemently denies any wrongdoing, the timing has fueled speculation that the Bad Boy Records founder’s adjustment to life inside is anything but smooth.

Combs has been locked up at the Federal Correctional Institution in Fort Dix since late October 2025, following a dramatic fall from grace that began with his September 2024 arrest in Manhattan. Federal prosecutors hit him with a slew of charges, including racketeering conspiracy, sex trafficking and transportation across state lines for prostitution—allegations tied to a pattern of alleged abuse and coercion spanning decades. In a trial that gripped headlines from coast to coast, Combs was ultimately convicted in July 2025 on two counts related to prostitution under the Mann Act. U.S. District Judge Arun Subramanian handed down a 50-month sentence in October, crediting Combs for time served and participation in a drug treatment program that could shave months off his bid. That program, along with his work in the chapel library, painted a picture of redemption for the man once known for lavish “freak-off” parties and A-list soirées.

But the honeymoon at Fort Dix appears to be over. Sources familiar with the matter, speaking to outlets like CBS News and NBC, point to at least two incidents that allegedly crossed the line. The first surfaced in early November, when Combs was reportedly caught brewing and sipping “moonshine”—homemade prison hooch fashioned from fermented fruit juice and smuggled ingredients. Such contraband is a staple in lockups nationwide, but for a high-profile inmate like Diddy, it’s a risky move. Prison rules strictly prohibit alcohol, with violations potentially leading to lost privileges or added time. Combs’ reps fired back swiftly, calling the claims “completely false and reckless.” In a statement posted to his X account, the team insisted: “Mr. Combs has not violated any prison rules. His only focus is becoming the best version of himself and returning to his family.” Publicist Juda Engelmayer echoed that sentiment to multiple reporters, emphasizing Combs’ sobriety milestone: sober for the first time in 25 years, he’s channeling energy into therapy, mentorship and entrepreneurial classes for fellow inmates.

The second allegation hit even closer to home: an unauthorized three-way phone call on November 3. Bureau of Prisons policy limits calls to two participants, a safeguard against smuggling info or coordinating outside schemes. According to incident reports obtained by CBS, Combs was chatting with an unidentified woman about weekend visitation plans when she patched in a third party—a man. The call veered into discussions of rehab progress and family matters, but officials flagged it as a clear breach. Combs reportedly claimed ignorance of the rules, a defense his team bolstered by revealing the woman was his attorney and the man his PR handler, brainstorming a statement for The New York Times. “It was attorney-client privilege and appropriate,” Engelmayer told reporters, slamming the episode as an overblown misunderstanding in Combs’ first week at the facility.

Penalties for these slip-ups could sting. Insiders say Combs dodged the worst—a potential three-month blackout on phone and commissary access—but the infractions likely triggered a review that tacked on the extra time. A Bureau of Prisons spokesperson remained tight-lipped, citing privacy and security protocols: “We do not discuss the conditions of confinement for any individual, including release plans, timing or procedures, or whether a particular individual is the subject of allegations, investigations or sanctions.” The updated date, they confirmed, is now official: June 4, 2028. Combs’ legal eagles, led by high-powered attorney Marc Agnifilo, are already plotting an appeal, blasting Judge Subramanian for what they call a coercive sentence influenced by “salacious” trial testimony. They argue the punishment doesn’t fit the convictions, especially given Combs’ clean record and rehabilitative efforts.

This isn’t the first time Combs has tested boundaries since his arrest. Back in the Metropolitan Detention Center in Brooklyn, where he idled pretrial, whispers of special treatment swirled—private chef meals, celebrity visitors and even a plea for a presidential pardon from none other than Donald Trump. The former president, in a CNN interview last month, confirmed Combs reached out amid the federal probe, lumping him with “a lot of people” seeking clemency. Trump, who once partied with Diddy at Mar-a-Lago, didn’t commit but left the door ajar, a nod to their shared history in New York’s elite circles. Combs’ pre-prison life was a whirlwind of excess: Bad Boy Records birthed stars like Notorious B.I.G. and Mary J. Blige, while his Sean John clothing line and Ciroc vodka deals minted him a billionaire. But civil suits from ex-girlfriend Casandra “Cassie” Ventura and others painted a darker portrait—allegations of physical abuse, forced encounters and a web of enablers that prosecutors dubbed a “criminal enterprise.” Combs settled with Ventura for $20 million days before her 2023 lawsuit dropped, but the damage was done. More than a dozen accusers followed, turning #SurvivingDiddy into a grim echo of #MeToo.

Inside Fort Dix, a sprawling campus once home to troubled soldiers, Combs is adapting to a far cry from his Miami mansions. The medium-security joint houses about 1,200 men, many non-violent like Diddy, in dorm-style barracks with communal showers and rigid routines. Wake-up at 6 a.m., count time hourly, meals of mystery meat and instant noodles—hardly the caviar dreams of his White Parties. Yet Combs has leaned in, restarting his “Free Game With Diddy” workshops to mentor inmates on business savvy and self-worth. A letter to Judge Subramanian before sentencing struck a contrite tone: “I got sober for the first time in 25 years… I’m attending therapy and starting a mentorship program.” It’s a pivot from the defiant figure who once rapped, “I’m just tryin’ to understand why it’s starting to rain,” now navigating leaks of a very different kind.

The pushback has ripple effects beyond the razor wire. Combs’ seven kids—ranging from toddler twins to grown sons in the industry—face a longer wait for dad’s return. His exes, including Ventura and model Yung Miami, have moved on publicly, but the family unit strains under the spotlight. Business-wise, Sean John filed for bankruptcy last year, and Ciroc sales tanked amid the scandals. Loyalists like his son Justin, who’s helmed Combs Enterprises, vow a comeback: “The empire rebuilds.” But critics, including women’s rights advocates, see the violations as par for the course. “This is the man who allegedly ran a sex-trafficking ring—rules were never his strong suit,” one activist told Fox News. Amnesty International and similar groups have monitored the case, flagging potential coercion in the underlying charges, though tribal leaders—no, wait, that’s another story. For Combs, it’s a reminder that even in lockdown, power plays persist.

As 2025 winds down, with holidays approaching and Combs marking his 56th birthday behind bars (green beans and all), the extra month feels like a gut punch. Will it stick, or is it bureaucratic bookkeeping? His team hints at more fights ahead, including a motion to revisit the sentence based on “new evidence” from the appeal. Trump’s pardon chatter lingers too, especially with the election dust settling. For now, Diddy’s world is one of fluorescent lights and folding cots, a stark contrast to the penthouses he once ruled. The man who defined hip-hop’s golden era now grapples with its long shadow, one infraction at a time. Whether this delay is a slap on the wrist or a sign of deeper troubles, it underscores a brutal truth: in the federal pen, no one’s above the rules—not even the king of Bad Boy.