Her Name Was Dolores Read online

  ©2017 by Tuyo Media Group, Inc.

  Published by HarperCollins Español, United States of America.

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical articles or reviews, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Editor-in-Chief: Graciela Lelli

  Interior design: Grupo Nivel Uno, Inc.

  ISBN: 978-0-71809-643-4

  Epub Edition February 2017 ISBN 9780718096403

  Printed in the United States of America

  17 18 19 20 21 DCI 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Contents

  Introduction

  1. The End and the Beginning

  2. Becoming Perfectly Imperfect

  3. Life on the Road

  4. Love and Music

  5. La Gran Señora Conquers México

  6. Trials and Tribulations

  7. Bossing It Up! A Business Magnate in the Making

  8. Success Comes at a Price

  9. Unforgettable Baby

  10. Happily Ever After? Love, Loss, and Betrayals

  11. Paloma Negra

  12. Lights Out

  13. The Aftermath

  Epilogue: Jenni Rivera’s Legacy

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Introduction

  In September 2012, just a few months before Jenni Rivera’s fatal plane crash, Jen’s career was as hot as it gets. She was at the top of her game musically, she had TV deals and fans that numbered in the millions, and she was selling out arenas on the regular, but her personal life was in complete disarray. Her complicated matrix of relationships, which had always been fraught with different levels of disappointment and betrayal, was now spinning out of control before her eyes, and everything reached a boiling point around the time Jen was killed in that jet. Maybe it was because of her extreme celebrity, or because of the catastrophic quality of the accident. Perhaps it was because of the fanfare and sadness and everything that comes with such an unexpected tragedy. Whatever the reason, after her death, no one spoke up about what was really unfolding in Jen’s life at the time of her death. Until now. I’m here to lay it on the line and give it to you straight.

  After Jenni Rivera passed away on December 9, 2012, my nights were peppered with vivid dreams that haunted my waking hours. I tried to decipher these apparitions of my beloved old friend and sister by choice, but wasn’t sure how to interpret them. All I know is that they moved me to the deepest core of my heart and soul and will forever be etched in my memory. The first one took place on a mountaintop. Jen and I stood together overlooking the entire city below. She was wearing a beautiful white gown and kept repeating, “It’s okay. It had to be this way, and it’s okay. Don’t worry.” I glanced in her direction, speechless, frozen in place. As she continued repeating this statement, tears streamed down my face, we turned back to the view of the city lights before us, and I woke up.

  In another dream, she showed up in her casual sweat suit, the warmups she lived in when the spotlight was off, and once again said to me, “It’s okay, it had to be this way, don’t worry.” Then she added a classic Jenni phrase, “Tell the kids to knock their shit off,” and ended it with, “Tell Rosie to be sure to listen.” If I was a betting man, I would bet my last dollar that the person in this dream was really Jen. As her words melted into my consciousness, I suddenly felt my wife by my side waking me and asking, “Are you okay?” She had felt me murmuring in my sleep, struggling to speak in my dream to no avail. Jen’s presence was as strong as ever. I felt she had just visited me, but as wonderful as it was to see her again, it also stirred up endless amounts of pain from the reality of her recent death. Nevertheless, rather than sweeping these dreams under the rug or deleting them from my memories, I decided to hold on to them and replay them in my mind.

  I was unable to speak in these dreams, so maybe Jen’s point was for me to listen. Were these just dreams, or could they really be a message I should take to heart? While I pondered the possibilities, the dreams stopped as abruptly as they’d begun … until four years later, when I began working on this book and the Univision series about Jen’s life. It was a sign. As worried as I had been about broaching these projects to the best of my ability and knowledge, I believe Jen would’ve wanted me to speak the truth in her straight-shooting, no holds barred fashion. The time has come for the Jen I knew to see the light of day.

  Besides being her close friend and manager, I wore many hats in Jen’s life. I was her security. I was her advisor. I was her ride. I was her balance. I was her backup. I was her right hand. I was her sounding board. I was her brother. And given these many roles, I was intimately caught in the web of her personal issues, including problems with her kids, siblings, parents, husbands, and friends. I was there for support, damage control, or just to lend an ear and make her feel safe.

  There was a lot of shit going down behind closed doors. It was far from a perfect life, but Jen never felt the need to hide any of this because she knew it made her who she was. After her passing, it seemed everyone and their mother came out of the woodworks trying to become Jen’s voice, trying to tell their picture-perfect version of her story, trying to apologize for her mistakes. But I know Jen, and she wasn’t one to apologize. She stood her ground and didn’t back down, unless she believed making amends was the right choice, because no matter how stubborn she was, she also had a huge heart and was an incredibly loyal friend. The world saw her as a force to be reckoned with, but she was actually a soft and gentle soul, and one of her deepest secrets was simply her vulnerability.

  Now, let me make one thing clear before we go on. This book is not intended to shame Jen’s family or anyone else for that matter. I just want to clarify and explain the complexity behind Jen’s life. I want you to join me in celebrating her strengths and acknowledging her weaknesses so that you can fully understand the perfectly imperfect beauty behind her magic. Jenni the Diva was not an overnight success. Her outstanding career was a product of love, tireless work, and endless battles. She demolished all the road blocks, pummeled all the naysayers, and beat all the odds to shatter several glass ceilings and rise to the top. That’s why this book is so important to me. In reading Jen’s official autobiography, one that her family finished writing for her after her death, I felt it was chock-full of lipstick. But that wasn’t Jen. The Jen that I knew wasn’t about a lot of lipstick; she was raw and real. That’s what her fans loved about her, and that’s what I’m hoping to convey in these pages.

  It took me four years to share my Jen story because at first I felt an inherent need to protect her, but now I realize that her life and legacy are meant to be shared and celebrated. I have no ulterior motives. As her close friend and brother by choice, I simply want to do right by her, and if I have to take any heat, I’m ready, as ready as Jen would’ve been if she were here with us today. All I want is for you, the reader, the fan, the admirer, the curious onlooker, to feel and understand the ups and downs, the ins and outs, and the tears and laughs that made Jen the stellar artist and human being we all grew to know and love. It was a tough ride, but worth absolutely every second of it. May these pages bring you some sense of closure and may they inspire you not only to keep Jenni Rivera’s legacy alive and thriving, but also to accomplish your lifelong goals and dreams, no matter how difficult the journey ahead. I know that’s what the Jenni I knew would’ve wanted for you, so, taking a page from her story, don’t let anyone or anything ever hold you back … and make sure to enjoy the ride.

  Chapter 1

  The End and the Beginning

  Jen
ni crouched down, sat on a parking lot wheel stop outside the hospital, and slowly looked up at me, her dark brown eyes brimming with pain and heartache, simply broken.

  “Are you okay?” I asked her.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said as she glanced away.

  “No, you can’t lie to me. Your eyes always tell me the truth.”

  Jenni’s eyes were the mirrors to her soul; one glance and I could see through all the smiles and jokes and bullshit and know how she was really feeling.

  “Ah, badass Pete, I hate when you do that to me,” she replied in classic Jenni style.

  When asked about the last time I saw Jenni Rivera, I inevitably go back to that day, November 28, 2012. My father had just passed away a few hours earlier, and Jenni—my steadfast, kind, giving, loyal, longtime friend—was there, right by my side, offering my family and me her moral support. My father’s death was not sudden, it was not unexpected, he had been sick for a while, and we knew it was imminent. So we were incredibly fortunate to be by his side, surrounding him with love, encouraging him to let go, reassuring him that we would be okay, and I had the honor and privilege of holding his hand as he took his last breath and left this world. This type of loss is far from easy, but there was a sense of peace and closure that enveloped my family and me that day, one that we were also able to transmit to my father as he passed on, one that I only wish Jenni could’ve had when her life came to a crashing end.

  That evening, after lending her love and support and taking a few hours out of her busy schedule to be by our side, when it was time for Jenni to head home, my wife and I walked her out to her car in the hospital parking lot, making small talk along the way. When she sat on that wheel stop and our eyes met, I knew something was up, but she was hesitant to open up to us, even though this was something she did on a regular basis at home. However, now, she felt that since my father had just passed, it wasn’t appropriate for her to bring up her problems, but I insisted. I could see my friend was in far deeper pain than I and in need of someone to lean on, maybe even a shoulder to cry on. This was one of the core foundations of our friendship: we constantly supported each other through the good and the bad; we always had each other’s backs. I was in a peaceful state of mind that evening, so I encouraged her to tell me what was weighing her down and causing her eyes to communicate such profound sadness. It was a little tug of war because she didn’t want to break down in my time of need, but she finally let it pour out.

  In the close to ten years that I have known Jen, as I used to call her, I have seen her experience a roller coaster of intense, painful, and sad moments in her life. The trial of her first ex-husband, José Trinidad Marín, for sexually abusing her sister and daughters; the incarceration and death of Juan Lopez, her second ex-husband and the father of her two youngest children; her soul mate’s battle with drug addiction; the rape charges against her son, Mikey; the demise of her third marriage … these were all heart-wrenching events, but I had never seen her so utterly hurt and distraught, so emotionally gutted as on that day at the hospital.

  Our Hood Queen, la Diva, la Gran Señora, the fighter, the survivor, the woman who everyone, from fans to friends to family, deemed as unbreakable was falling apart before my eyes. As she shared what was in her heart that night, she confessed that she still carried a sense of endless guilt about the abuse her sister and daughters had suffered at the hands of her ex-husband, Trino. She wished she had figured it out sooner, she wished she could’ve done something to stop it, but when she finally found out, more than ten years later, it was too late, for the damage had been done. As we delved further into these events that forever changed the life of her sister and daughters, as well as her own existence, I urged her to let go of all that guilt once and for all. It did her no good and drove her to overcompensate with her children in ways that proved to be unhealthy for all of them.

  “You have to forgive yourself. You have to forgive yourself, Jen. You have to.” I kept repeating this phrase, hoping to get the message across to her. I just wanted to see her happy again.

  “You know, Pete, I’ve finally accepted that I was also a victim. I was fifteen years old. The first time I even had sex, I ended up pregnant, and he was in his twenties. What did I know?”

  She was right, and she’d also suffered domestic abuse, way too much for a teenager to handle, but she somehow managed to keep going. I was glad to see her accepting that she too had been a victim. Then the conversation took a turn into her present life circumstances, the one reason she felt her world had been shattered into a million pieces: her daughter, Chiquis. She was so hurt and in disbelief, trying to come to terms with what she believed was her daughter’s ultimate betrayal. At the time, she couldn’t have cared less about her soon-to-be ex-husband Esteban. Losing a man had nothing against the possibility of losing a daughter. Chiquis was her blood, her baby, her best friend, her confidant; they had been in the trenches together ever since Jenni gave birth to her at fifteen, so the thought that Chiquis had betrayed her in such a way caused her unbearable pain, disappointment, and shame.

  Jen couldn’t come to terms with this, she didn’t know what to do, she was as lost as I had ever seen her. She didn’t want to bring any of this to the public light because, at the end of the day, no matter what happened, Chiquis was her daughter and, even though they were not speaking and Jenni was hurt beyond repair, she would never throw her own flesh and blood under the bus. She would never humiliate her princess in that way; she would always protect her no matter what went down between them. But it was eating her up inside, and she finally let it all out and broke down.

  Jenni was the glue in the Rivera family—that is even clearer now than it was back then—she helped keep them all united, yet this time she had no idea how she was going to come back from this latest blow. She was like a broken mirror, you could piece her back together, but the cracks would still be visible. She was devastated.

  Sitting before me was a woman who was adored by millions, who had rolled up her sleeves and worked tirelessly for years on end to make her dreams come true, someone who had hit innumerable milestones in her career, who had fought tooth and nail to give her children the life they deserved, who inspired countless women who had been knocked down to get up, dust themselves off, and keep moving forward. Yet that day, those tear-filled eyes told me the real story. Our hard-working, unstoppable Diva de la Banda was feeling completely defeated and lost.

  When our conversation finally came to an end, I gave her a big bear hug, and told her I was there for her, always. She was my sister, and I was ready to do anything I could to lift her spirits and help her get her personal life back on track. In retrospect, I’m so grateful we were able to share that meaningful moment, those words, that heart-to-heart conversation. I’m glad I was able to be there for her to help lighten the load she had been carrying those past few months, even if only for a moment. I had faith she would be okay and everything would work itself out. I was sure she would eventually be able to pick herself back up again and move on, as she had done in countless other situations. She just needed a little time to figure it all out, but what I didn’t know was that time was no longer on her side.

  That day wasn’t technically the last day I saw Jen, but it was the last meaningful conversation we had before she left this world, the one I will never forget. The actual last time I saw her was on December 5, 2012, during the taping of her radio show, Contacto directo con Jenni Rivera, which she taped every Wednesday. She was scheduled to fly to Mexico the following day—Thursday, December 6, 2012—so I stopped by the station to iron out last-minute details before she left. Her dad was a guest on the show that day; she had actually asked him to come with her, but he had to stay behind to take care of some business.

  It was another typical day in Jenni’s life, but she was super excited about this particular show in Monterrey because it was yet another milestone in her career. No one in banda music had ever sold out the Monterrey Arena. Selling out that venue was alr
eady a huge accomplishment, but doing so in her music genre was a groundbreaking event for her and for banda music in general. She was ecstatic! We went over details after the radio program. I was scheduled to go to Monterrey to oversee production of I Love Jenni. It was the first time the show’s production team would be traveling with her to Mexico. Needless to say, with my father’s passing, I wasn’t able to attend. She asked how all of the arrangements were coming along, wanting to make sure that everything was taken care of, checking to see if I was going to be okay, always remembering to stop and care for others no matter what sunny days or stormy weather she was facing in her life. She also mentioned Chiquis in that conversation, but seemed calmer about it all; she was in better spirits.

  I actually remember her being so happy that Wednesday, filled with many hopes, dreams, and goals for the following year, ones that would bring her closer to home and her beloved children. I never imagined that would be the last day I would see Jen. I couldn’t have even fathomed the shock and loss that we would suffer only a few days later. I gave her a hug and said good-bye, happy to see her up and in better spirits, but I knew she was still grappling with a lot within. I couldn’t help but think about that touching, honest, and heartbreaking conversation we’d had a few days earlier. In truth, that no-holds-barred woman who sat on that wheel stop in that hospital parking lot, pouring her heart out and expressing her deepest regrets and emotions, that there wasn’t Jenni Rivera the Diva, la Gran Señora, or La Reina de Long Beach. Her name was Dolores, and that there was the Jen that I knew and loved.

  It was ten a.m. on another sunny California morning in April 2003. I was sitting in a Beverly Hills conference room, where I was scheduled to meet with a singer at my friend Anthony Lopez’s request. Anthony was an alumnus from my college, a mentor, and an entertainment attorney who had recently mentioned that he had a possible job opportunity for me. He explained it was the sister of one of his clients who was looking to do something bigger with her music career. She was in the process of assembling her own team, so he asked if I’d be interested in taking a meeting with her. Coming from such a close friend, I said yes without hearing any more details. Then he summed it up for me further: it was Lupillo Rivera’s sister, Jenni; she was looking to make a name for herself. I sighed and immediately thought, Oh, great, another little sister project. Those are usually tough ones to manage because their careers rarely make it as far as their famous sibling’s, but I was already on board for the meeting, so I figured I’d do my friend a solid and see it through. And that’s where I was that morning, at Anthony’s law office, in a conference room, on time, noticing how the minutes continued to tick by with no Jenni in sight.