Her Name Was Dolores Read online

  Filly Brown

  Acting had never really crossed Jen’s mind before. She had a slew of ideas and business ventures in the works, and definitely had some experience in front of the camera with her reality show, but she never thought acting was in the cards for her, until she received a call from none other than Edward James Olmos. Edward had signed up to work on a project titled Filly Brown. It was a small independent film with relatively unknown actors, with the exception of himself and Lou Diamond Philips. As the director and producers were putting together the cast, Lisa Ríos, one of the movie’s executive producers and a friend of Jen’s from the world of radio, threw Jenni’s name into the basket for the role of María Tenorio—that’s when Edward perked up and quickly chimed in. He knew who she was and also remembered that his daughter went to school with Jen’s kids in Encino, so he offered to reach out to her.

  Never in her life had Jen imagined that renowned actor Edward James Olmos even knew she existed, so when she got his call she was floored and flattered. As they spoke, he mentioned the film and asked if she’d be interested in being part of the cast. “I think you’d be great for the part.” Jen had no acting experience, so she was hesitant, but he assured her, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re okay. I’ll make sure you get whatever coaching and classes you need.” Stunned, Jen kept thinking, Is this true, is this really happening? Is Edward James Olmos personally inviting me to participate in this film and offering to be my guide as I venture into my first movie role? It was an offer she simply couldn’t refuse, so she finally decided to jump right in with a resounding, “Yes!”

  Ever the good student, Jen enrolled in some private acting classes and, to her astonishment, discovered that she was a natural. Huge relief, but the real hurdle was still before her. She was cast to play María Tenorio, Majo Tenorio’s mother, an abusive and manipulative woman who takes advantage of her responsible and loving daughter. As Jen started reading the script, doubts began to cast shadows in her mind; she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to pull this off successfully. This woman was a criminal and an absentee mother who took advantage of her daughter, while Jen lived and breathed for her kids. It had nothing to do with who she was in real life, so she struggled to figure out where to draw her inspiration. When we talked about it, I said, “Jen, you just gotta be everything that you’re not.” And that’s exactly what she did.

  Jen stepped into those two days of filming prepped by her classes and pumped by the challenge, and she absolutely nailed it! Suddenly, another door had opened in Jen’s career, one that involved acting—a role we would have seen develop further had she made it to 2013. On December 4, 2012, a few days before Jen’s fatal accident, we announced a big deal with ABC proclaiming Jen as the first Latina lead in her own sitcom. Another first, another milestone, another goal cut short by her death.

  Other projects that were also stunted by Jen’s passing included her stint as a judge on the second season of La voz… México; her dream of having her own record label, where she could serve as producer and mentor to new and emerging talented artists; and her goal to finally finish and publish her memoir.

  Unbreakable

  Jen had started writing her autobiography a few years prior to her death, randomly, on scraps of paper, in her planner, jotting her thoughts down when inspiration hit, whether she was on a plane, tour bus, commuting, or in a hotel room. She’d send me e-mails and text messages with her musings, things she didn’t want to forget, and I’d make sure to save these snippets for her, acting like a hard drive for her memories.

  After some time, I noticed she had a lot of material, so I sat her down and said, “Jen, we’re ready. Let’s get this book thing done.” I introduced her to Jeff Silberman, who is now my agent, and they immediately hit it off. We knew Jen had an amazing story, one that would grip anyone’s heart, regardless of whether they were a Jenni Rivera fan or not. Fortunately, Jeff recognized this potential, so he moved forward and set up meetings with publishers for the three of us to pitch the book with our contagious enthusiasm … but once again, we were met by yet another bunch of top executives who just didn’t get it. They were reluctant to take a chance on her, doubting how well it might do in the market, unable to see Jenni’s power and draw and the millions of fans who would have eagerly purchased her memoir. And they remained blind to her magic … until she passed away. As soon as the media outlets exploded in a frenzy covering her accident and the countless fans sharing their devastation and adoration for la Gran Diva, the phone started ringing off the hook. Suddenly every publisher in town wanted a piece of the action, ready to pay premium prices to release her story to the world ASAP.

  I had the manuscript, the collection of notes and thoughts that, once weaved together, would narrate Jenni’s amazing story, but I no longer had a say on what should be done with it because, after Jen’s passing, it belonged to the estate, which was handled by her sister Rosie. All I was asked to do was pass along everything I had and make the necessary introductions. Rosie and the Rivera family took over from there.

  It’s no secret that I have my reservations with regard to what they finally published as Jenni Rivera’s official autobiography, Unbreakable: My Story, My Way. It was her story, but it wasn’t her way. There were many missing pieces, many untold stories, many key people in her life who were barely, if at all, mentioned. It’s clear to me the family had a heavy hand in the editing stages of this book because I remember her original ideas; they’re fresh in my mind, and they didn’t feature her siblings as prominently as in the official published version because they hadn’t been there in real life either. Her family and work life were two different worlds. The family didn’t really participate in her career development, with the exception of Chiquis who was her rock, because Jen didn’t burden them with all the struggles she had to traverse to make it big. That’s what her work family was for. She protected, provided, and cared for her family, and when the cards were stacked against her, she leaned on her work family for support, but her book painted a somewhat different picture.

  That’s why I’m here, sharing her story, the one that I saw with my own eyes, the one that shows how passionate she was about her children and her work. Jen was a force to be reckoned with, she waged a difficult battle to make it big, and when she finally clinched her hard-earned success, she quickly realized nothing was ever or would ever be a win-win situation in her life. Soon enough, she would have to come to terms with the fact that becoming a business magnate and star also carried its own set of sacrifices and pitfalls.

  Chapter 8

  Success Comes at a Price

  Many people believe that once you’ve made it, you’re all set, your worries are gone, and your life is all smiles, but in many cases, major accomplishments come with sacrifices, and big success stories come at a price. The biggest price Jen had to pay was being away from her children. That was the one that caused her the deepest pain. That was what she fretted about the most each time she had to go on tour and leave them behind. But that wasn’t the only price she paid. No matter where you come from, when you become successful, many people around you suddenly feel entitled to a piece of the action, be it family, friends, colleagues, fans … or Mexican cartels.

  It’s hard to strike a balance between feeling indebted to those who helped you when you were down and the needs and nature of your business. In our Latino community, most of us have been raised to believe that if someone gives us a hand—especially from the beginning, either when you first arrived to the United States, when you’re down on your luck, or when you’re setting off to pursue a dream that requires a lot of work and sacrifice—we are eternally indebted to them for their support. And Jen wasn’t the exception to this unspoken rule. She couldn’t turn her back on those who had helped her along her difficult path to success. Her loyalty was her trademark, and that remained true even after she made it big.

  I tried to talk some business sense into her, explaining that those debts and that sense of gratitude eventu
ally get paid off; they don’t have to be a lifelong thing because that can get tricky real fast. After a while, some people may see these gestures of indebted gratitude as something they are now entitled to; they begin to expect handouts and help no matter how much or how little they did to help you when you were down on your luck. There are certain characters in our lives who may have simply given us one meal when we really needed it, yet make it a point to continuously remind us of that meal and that generous gesture, so long as they can continue cashing in the favor for the rest of their days. They’re like leeches. We all know at least one person like this, feeding off of other people’s success. However, Jen sometimes seemed naïve when it came to seeing people’s true colors. I wanted to make sure she was aware of people’s intentions. I didn’t want her generosity to be taken advantage of, but I also completely got where she was coming from.

  In our Latino community we are instilled with a sense of loyalty since birth. We learn to use a specific bank because that’s the one our parents went to when we were young, unlike second- or third-generation Americans who shop around for the best deal for their circumstances. No, we’re taught to stay loyal to one institution because it treated our family well, and that means more than any other better deal we may be offered. I came to realize this nature in our culture when I went to business school, and I learned that it was okay to switch banks or go to another market. However, I also discovered that our culture is inevitably embedded in our business practices, making the line between what’s best for us and our blind loyalty quite a blurry one.

  As savvy as Jen was in business, those cultural gaps were hard for her to comprehend from an entrepreneurial standpoint because no matter how far she came, she was adamant about never forgetting her roots and her humble beginnings and helping those who were there for her in the past. I have to be honest, I wasn’t always for this way of doing business. I told her it was okay to be a little selfish. Sometimes, when you’re constantly trying to solve other people’s problems, you don’t realize that you may actually be hindering their progress. They come to depend on you and only you to save them, when in reality what they need is to learn how to save themselves. But that was Jen, she was all heart, even in business, and as much as this burdened her at times, it was also part of her magic.

  As her manager, however, it was a catch-22 situation. I wanted her to wake up and smell the coffee, but I also didn’t want to change her essence, that approachable side that everyone knew and loved. You could find her at a 7-Eleven or at a taco truck any day of the week because she never forgot where she came from. Her hood kept her grounded. Yet I couldn’t ignore the slew of people who sponged off of her success, and that bothered the hell out of me, but there wasn’t much I could do because it mostly stemmed from her family.

  When Lupillo’s success was on the rise, the family established a unique way of supporting each other: fifty percent of whatever he earned as a musician went to his pocket, and the other fifty percent went to the family pot. So when he made it in the industry—the first one of the Riveras to finally make this music dream a reality—he also became the biggest family contributor and, therefore, their ultimate breadwinner and god. As Jenni used to say, “The family was all on Lupillo’s nuts.” She observed from afar as she continued working hard on her own to make a name for herself, and once she did, the tables suddenly shifted.

  As Jen climbed the stairs to stardom, she was not only providing for her children, but was also now becoming the biggest contributor to the family pot. Move over Lupillo, there’s a new goddess and breadwinner in town. Now, whenever they were in a rut or needed cash for any other reason, they would all turn to Jen. And I’m not talking about just her immediate family. I’m talking about aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, even friends and employees. They’d all come running to her with requests in the thousands of dollars, five thousand here, ten thousand over there. I couldn’t believe their audacity, but Tía Jenni always came through for them. In all the years I worked with Jen, I saw her say no very few times, especially if the person was family. She could never turn her back on them, even when it was obvious they were crossing the line and asking for way too much. Her heart was made of gold, and she never made a move without considering how it would affect those around her, including her employees.

  Once she became a star, Jen had thirty-three employees working for her, including her band, drivers in Mexico, office employees in California, and more, and she took her role as their employer very seriously. Jen knew that those paychecks they received helped provide for their families, so she couldn’t slip up. If she didn’t make money, they didn’t make money, and if they didn’t get paid, they couldn’t put food on their tables for their families. She saw this ripple effect so clearly that, in addition to all the responsibilities toward her family, she carried the weight of being a provider for her employees too. She strived to make enough bank to keep food on her table as well as on theirs; she wouldn’t have it any other way. She was amazing. And yes, in many ways Jen was Wonder Woman, but what many forgot along the way was that she was also human, and there were moments where the weight of feeling responsible for so many lives was too much for her to handle.

  One time when she broke down in front of me, completely burned out, I turned to her and said, “Jen, you need to stop. Look, this is what you need to understand. If you can’t do it anymore and you need to take a break, then take a break. Everyone else will figure it out, myself included.” But she wouldn’t have it. She wouldn’t allow herself to take a break. She couldn’t do that to her employees and even less so to her family. She couldn’t let them down, and there was no way in hell she would dare do anything to risk losing it all and falling back into that dark hole she’d worked so tirelessly to dig herself out of. Being broke again was absolutely inconceivable in her mind. The bitter taste of those past days was always present in her life, pushing her to keep going. Even after becoming a multimillionaire, she still worked as hard as if she were living on her last twenty bucks. So taking a break was out of the question, no matter how much her body and mind were crying out for some much needed rest.

  Now, wait a minute. I need to make one thing clear. Jen was kind and generous, but she was far from a pushover. Sure, she would always help her family and those in need by giving them money or jobs to make sure they were okay, but if you crossed that line with Jen, if you pushed her far enough to her limit, as much as she hated that type of confrontation, she’d let you go in the blink of an eye. Such was the case with one of her first publicists, Yanalté Galván, when she decided to jump ship and work with Graciela Beltrán. At first she was trying to juggle them both as clients, something that did not sit well with Jen, given her history and rivalry with Graciela and also her goal of having a team that worked exclusively for her. But she gave Yanalté a pass, knowing that she needed the work, and Jen couldn’t afford to take her on full-time just yet. Eventually, the conflicts of interest were too deep and Jen finally said, “Ya basta, it’s over.”

  Here’s the clincher, here’s where Jen’s heart of gold comes into play. Regardless of all that went down between them, she still let Yanalté keep an SUV that technically belonged to Jen. Yanalté was like family to her, and she wasn’t about to take away the one vehicle she needed to transport her special needs child. So, yes, there had been a heated exchange and she ultimately fired her, but she continued making payments for Yanalté’s SUV for around one or two years. That was the Jen I knew.

  Now let me backtrack a minute. In order to understand the weight of this issue, and why it was such a disappointment to Jen, we must dive into one of Jen’s most public feuds, and one of our biggest media wrangles yet.

  Jenni Rivera vs. Graciela Beltrán

  Graciela Beltrán was originally one of the recording artists who had signed with Cintas Acuario, Jen’s father’s record label. He was awestruck with Graciela, always gloating about his niña, giving her music his full attention and backing her every move. Jen observed this from a d
istance and found it hard to accept and digest this relationship, especially when she herself was trying to break into the music industry with so little family support. But rather than vying for her father’s attention, Jen remained focused and persevered like the little engine that could. When Jen decided to take her singing career seriously and become a full-time recording artist and performer, instead of letting Jen be, Graciela began to poke the dragon.

  Suddenly, if Jen and Graciela were scheduled to play the same event, we’d get word that she didn’t want Jen anywhere near the backstage area until she was done with her performance. I am a witness of how she continually dissed Jen, giving her dirty looks, not wanting to cross paths with her at events, and it was totally unnecessary. Jen was just starting out, while Graciela was already a full-fledged artist on the scene. She had a name, she was at the height of her career, there was no need for this type of treatment, but it was clearly a power trip, and she reveled in it. That’s exactly why when Yanalté decided to take on Graciela as a client, Jen was none too pleased.

  However, with time and hard work, the balance of powers began to shift. As Graciela’s fame declined, Jen’s star power was on the rise, and it was in that crossroads that they had their major face-off. Graciela, the media’s little darling, was suddenly losing ground to Jen, the scandalous outspoken diva, and she wasn’t having it. So she played the victim card, trying to garner as much attention as possible to keep her career alive. However, as Graciela used her girl-next-door image in the media in her favor, she also continued to antagonize Jen. It was like walking by a fence with a chained dog on the other side, purposefully kicking the fence to instigate the dog when no one is looking, then acting surprised and scared when the dog begins to growl and bark.