In 2015, I Was Diddy’s Plumber, and What I Found Hidden in His Basement Will Shock You | HO

In 2015, I was working as a plumber for a high-end custom plumbing company. We specialized in catering to wealthy clients with mansions, luxury estates, and some of the most extravagant homes you could imagine.

Our work wasn’t just about installing sinks or toilets; we created bespoke plumbing installations for clients who wanted nothing but the best—everything from custom fixtures to marble sinks, Jacuzzi tubs, and gold-plated faucets. Our clients were celebrities, business moguls, and ultra-wealthy individuals who could afford to pay top dollar for a truly unique experience.

One particular job sticks out in my memory, and not for the reasons you might think. It was late 2015, and the project in question was for none other than Sean “Diddy” Combs. The man, known for his luxury lifestyle, had bought a mansion that we had previously worked on when it was owned by someone else. But this time, the request was entirely different.

Diddy wanted to completely overhaul the plumbing to suit his extravagant taste—marble sinks, solid gold faucets with embedded Swarovski crystals, and a Jacuzzi made of marble and inlaid with gemstones, complete with custom LED lighting. It was the kind of job that would make most contractors’ heads spin.

We were tasked with installing everything from scratch. The materials alone were worth a small fortune, and I knew this job would be one of the most lucrative ones I had worked on. It was one of those projects where you do the work, get paid well, and hope to stay out of the way while your clients indulge in their vision of luxury.

When we arrived at the mansion, security was everywhere. Diddy himself wasn’t around, but his team was there to supervise. They led us down into the basement of the house, which was far more opulent than any basement I had ever seen. Instead of a dank, dark, and dusty storage area, this basement was a full-fledged entertainment zone.

There was a bar, a small stage, and even stripper poles polished to a shine, as though they were waiting for a performance. It felt more like an exclusive club than a private home.

But there was something else about this basement that struck me as odd—everything seemed a little too hidden. Usually, when someone spends a fortune on luxury fixtures, they want to show them off. The sinks and the Jacuzzi would typically be placed in a prominent area where guests could admire them. Instead, they were being installed in the basement, almost like a secret lair for private, unseen use.

It didn’t make sense to me at the time, but I wasn’t there to ask questions. My job was to install the plumbing, and that’s what I focused on.

I spent the first week installing the Jacuzzi, which was a massive, intricate structure that took up a lot of space and required careful work. Diddy had requested that everything be done quickly, and he was more than happy to pay extra for speed. Once that was complete, I was assigned the task of installing the sinks.

Now, installing these luxury sinks wasn’t your typical plumbing job. It required precision, patience, and a delicate touch, almost like being a jeweler. The materials we were working with were so rare and expensive that any mistake could cost more than a year’s worth of my salary. It was high-stakes work, but I was used to it by then. Still, the moment I set foot in that basement, I couldn’t shake the strange feeling that something was off.

When I started on the first sink, I noticed something odd about the floor. At first, it was just a slight give when I stepped in one particular spot. It was subtle, like stepping on a loose floorboard, but it was enough to make me think that maybe there was a flaw in the construction of the basement. I shrugged it off at first, but as I continued working, the floor seemed to shift beneath me more and more.

Eventually, I stepped onto that same spot, and this time, the floor gave way completely. My leg went straight through the hole up to my knee. The pain was sharp and immediate, and I couldn’t believe what had just happened.

I pulled my leg out of the hole and stood there, swearing to myself, trying to make sense of how a floor in a luxury mansion could be so poorly constructed. I was installing fixtures worth more than some people’s entire homes, and the floor beneath me was falling apart. After the initial shock wore off, curiosity got the best of me. I had to see what was going on beneath the floor, so I cleared away the boards and plywood covering the hole.

As I pulled away the covering, I realized that this wasn’t just a random hole. It was a full-on opening, big enough that I could see something below. I heard faint sounds coming from beneath me, a humming noise, like machinery, followed by muffled voices. I couldn’t tell what was going on, but it definitely sounded like something more than basic maintenance work.

Despite the logical part of my brain telling me to turn around and forget about it, curiosity got the better of me. I grabbed the small ladder we had been using to install the Jacuzzi and set it up in the hole. As I descended, the humming and voices grew louder, and I started to feel a mix of excitement and dread. The air down there was thick, warm, and damp, almost suffocating. The smell was a mixture of musty earth, rusted metal, and something else I couldn’t quite place.

When I finally reached the bottom of the hole, I was stunned. This wasn’t a forgotten crawl space or a utility tunnel. It was a proper, built-for-purpose tunnel, stretching out in both directions, too wide and too cleanly constructed to be an ordinary maintenance space. It felt deliberate, like it had a purpose, but I couldn’t figure out what.

Then I noticed something else—narrow tracks running along the side tunnel. They were old and rusty, like miniature train tracks, and clearly had been used recently. Someone—or something—had been moving things down there. The mystery deepened, but I couldn’t stop myself from continuing down the tunnel.

And then I saw it. A massive black metal door, identical to the one we had passed through to enter the basement. It felt completely out of place, sitting in the middle of this underground space. I walked toward it, my heart racing, and when I tried the handle, the door opened easily. It shouldn’t have. For something so heavy and ominous, I expected it to be locked, but it wasn’t.

What I saw inside that room I will never forget. It was like something out of a nightmare. There was a single chair sitting in the middle of the room, next to an old, bulky television—one of those large, boxy models from decades ago. But it wasn’t just the furniture that disturbed me. There was something about the room, about the whole setup, that felt wrong, like it was designed for something sinister.

I don’t know what Diddy was involved in, or if he even knew what was happening in that basement, but what I found there was something I can’t shake. It’s one of those things that sticks with you, no matter how hard you try to forget it. The mansion, the luxury, the money—none of it seemed to matter when faced with the strange and eerie discoveries hidden beneath it all. Even now, I can’t help but wonder what was really going on in that basement. What was being hidden, and why? It’s a question that still haunts me.