Her Name Was Dolores Page 13

  Nevertheless, this was a heavy world we were dealing in, and it also came with a few scary moments that hit too close to home. Between the cartels and the corrupt government, it was often hard to tell who was who and what was what, which made it difficult to calculate if certain threats Jen had to face were real or fake. Like the time Mexican immigration officers detained her at the Mexico City airport claiming she had forgotten to declare the fifty thousand dollars she was carrying with her. Man, the media sure had another field day with that incident. What they didn’t know was that Jen did declare that money, but they stopped her anyway. They knew who she was, so they thought they could scare her into handing over some of her cash. They basically asked her to pay a multa in order to get by them. Yeah, they were straight up asking her for a bribe in exchange for her safe passing and threatened to detain her if she didn’t pay up, thinking that she would rather fork over some bills than let the media get wind of such a story, but they sure as hell didn’t know Jenni. She looked them straight in the eye and said, “I’ll stay here as long as it takes, but I’m not giving you a dime.”

  So they seized her money, took her into custody, and the media spun the story to attract more readers, but the truth was she had done nothing wrong. We had proof of payment from each performance contract, and she hadn’t broken any laws. She just outright refused to give dirty cops money that she had rightfully earned and declared. Not one to give up, Jen hunkered down at the station, ordered pizzas for everyone, hired a lawyer, and simply waited it all out. That’s why in the media shots you can see her smiling and waving because it was just another ploy to extort money from her, and she would be damned if she would take part in that. They eventually let her go and two weeks later had no choice but to release her seized money without getting away with a penny of it. She called them on their bluff and came out victorious; however, making these types of calls weren’t always that easy. Sometimes we weren’t sure who to believe or trust and had to go with our gut, making spur of the moment life or death decisions and praying for the best possible outcome.

  Death Threat and the DEA

  I will never forget that day in July 2011. We were prepping everything for Jen’s upcoming trip to Mexico, another sold-out palenque show in Reynosa, Tamaulipas. I was going about my business, checking e-mails and voicemails when I heard our booking agent Michael Scafuto, with his old-school New York Italian accent, say: “Pete, call me back as soon as you get this. It’s urgent.” I returned his call immediately and noticed that he sounded scared. “Dude, the DEA contacted my office. They’re looking for Jen. They said they need to get a hold of her ASAP about a very serious matter.” He gave me the DEA’s number, we hung up, and I instantly dialed Jen.

  “What’s up?” she said.

  “I got a call from Michael Scafuto. He was contacted by the DEA, and they said they need to speak to you.”

  “Come over,” she said.

  I hung up, got in my car, and drove over to her house. We walked to her office, closed the door, and I made the call. I asked to speak to the special agent who’d left the message and explained what had happened, but he insisted on speaking to Jen directly. I was hoping to act as a buffer, hoping Jen wouldn’t overreact with whatever news they had for her, but I obliged and gave her the phone. They exchanged greetings and he cut right to the chase, explaining that they had received a credible lead from a confidential source that there was a planned hit on her at her performance in Reynosa that weekend. She literally froze as she continued listening attentively. The agent advised her not to go. He emphasized once again that this came from a very reliable source and clarified that if she decided to ignore this warning and go regardless, they wouldn’t be able to protect her once she crossed over to Mexico because they had no jurisdiction there. It was their responsibility to let her know about this credible threat, but it ultimately came down to her decision. Jen gracefully thanked him, hung up, and panic set in.

  Not only did the agent repeatedly say that they had received this news from one of their credible informants on the ground, we also knew that this was the same palenque where singer Valentín Elizalde had been gunned down in an ambush shortly after his performance in 2006. This venue already had a dangerous reputation, even less reason to take the DEA’s warning lightly. As we gathered ourselves after the initial shock, Jen called her lawyer in Mexico, Mario Macías, filled him in on what was going on, and asked him to check his sources to verify if the rumor was indeed true. Apparently, the local promoter swore up and down that they knew nothing of such a rumor and assured Mario that nothing would happen, that Jenni would be safe in their plaza.

  By now, we had no idea who to trust, especially with Jen’s life on the line. We kept going back and forth on possible decisions, scenarios, and outcomes. If she canceled out of the blue, the local promoter would know something was up, and the last thing you want is for those in Mexico to suspect you may be working with the feds, especially in this line of business, where you’re out on stage and completely exposed to any and all dangers and threats. So that was out of the question. Then we thought we could maybe cancel and blame it on the weather. A huge storm was pounding Mexico that week, causing airports to shut down left and right, so we figured mother nature might be able to help us get out of this mess.

  After thinking long and hard, we decided to go with this last option. Jen called the promoter directly, carefully explaining that she’d heard the Reynosa airport had been shut down due to the storm, which was true, so her private jet wouldn’t be allowed to land safely. She apologized for this huge inconvenience and offered to return their deposit for having to cancel the show on such short notice. We thought we had it in the bag, until the promoter replied, “Don’t worry, we’ve already made arrangements to open the airport and allow your plane to land.” Jen was speechless. No way in hell we’d thought of this possibility. Just knowing that the promoter had pulled strings to authorize her jet to land, regardless of the inclement weather and airport shutdown, gave us the chills. Was the DEA right? Why were they going out of their way to get Jen to Reynosa? Was her life really in danger? She thanked the promoter for the special arrangements and hung up. Now what?

  Not only was the show still a go, but her band had already been bussed in from another Mexican city, so if this threat was real, they were already smack in the middle of harm’s way. Jen was loyal to the core, never one to leave anyone hanging, so she decided to bite the bullet, take a leap of faith, and go. However, as brave as she appeared, Jen was also terrified. She asked Mario to arrange for extra protection, so he hired the local military reserves to provide their security service, and then she called her brother, Juan, to fill him in on the threat. As soon as he heard the details, he insisted on going with her. Although she was scheduled to fly with her usual team of people, he didn’t want her to enter the lion’s den alone, but she cut him short. “No, Juan. If anything were to happen to me, I need you to take care of the kids.” She didn’t let me go with her either. “Pete, you can’t go because if anything happens to me, you’re the one who knows what to do here.” A foreboding request that would haunt my days only a year after this incident.

  So it was settled. As much as we all wanted to be by her side to offer her our protection, we understood that staying back was also essential should the worse happen in Mexico. She couldn’t risk not having anyone home to take care of her children and all that could ensue, and there was no turning back now. It was a done deal. Jen would be flying to Mexico the following day, as scheduled, together with her assistants Adrian and Julie, her makeup artist Jacob, and her dear friend Elena, who insisted on going with her as soon as she heard the news.

  The threat had a major impact on us all. I will never forget that good-bye. It was one of the hardest ones of my life because we had no idea if it might be the last one. Her eyes were filled with fear, but Jen’s mind was made up. She was going to face the beast, with faith on her side, hoping for the best while preparing for the worst.


  Prior to landing in Mexico, Jen turned to her team on the jet and said, “If you don’t want to go, it’s okay. I won’t make you go and won’t think any differently of you if you decided to stay behind.” But Jacob firmly replied, “No, baby, estamos contigo hasta el fin.” We’re with you till the end, another premonitory statement for a fate that awaited both Jen and Jacob a little more than a year later.

  They landed safely in Mexico, piled out of the jet, into a bulletproof vehicle that was waiting for them, and followed the military escort to the venue. As they drove along, Jen looked out the window and saw a white cross on the side of the road. She glanced over to Julie and said, “Jules, see that white cross? That’s where they got Valentín, where they killed him.” An eerie silence invaded the car as they watched the cross zoom by, a pivotal moment in Jen’s life that she’d pause and remember later, but now their focus was on getting this show over and done with.

  They reached the venue and, while Jen was getting ready, as if they weren’t already at the edge of their seats, suddenly all the lights went out, a total blackout. As they sat in the pitch-black venue, they were completely spooked, and somehow preparing for the worse. They all breathed in deeply, and as the storm rumbled outside, the lights suddenly flickered back on. Was that a sign? A bad omen? Who knew. All Jen really knew was that there was no turning back now. The show had to go on, and go on it did. Jen hit the stage that night and did her best to entertain her fans and transform the performance into a big party, something she was known for doing, but this time around she was extra vigilant. She went through the moves, toasting with the audience, trying not to raise any suspicions as she raised her glass to her lips without actually taking a drink. Relaxing into her songs and performance was impossible that night because her adrenaline was off the charts.

  The concert wrapped without another hitch, the hired soldiers escorted them out of the palenque and back to the airport, and they flew back home and arrived in one piece. However, that impending threat, that life or death decision, that ride to and from the venue, the performance, they all amounted to a life-changing epiphany for Jen. The time had finally come for her to seriously reconsider her priorities and make some adjustments in her life. She had suddenly grown acutely aware of her mortality and the dangers some of these performances in Mexico posed to her life. Up until then it had been all fun and games, we’d had a great time, but now she suddenly realized that she could’ve actually died out there, and that was no laughing matter.

  Jen always used to say, “When will my book end? When will the movie end?” referring to all the dramatic chapters in her life from which she never seemed to catch a break. However, that had been the closest call she’d ever had to staring death in the face. She’d been doing around two hundred gigs a year, if not more, she already had wealth and fame, she was tired, she yearned to be closer to her kids, and it was finally time to make that happen. It was time to leave these grueling and increasingly dangerous tours behind and open the doors to new possibilities. Yet, no matter how hard Jen tried to find some peace, the emotional roller coaster that was her life always threw her for another loop, and she still had one more ride packed with peaks and valleys to endure before her untimely death.

  Chapter 9

  Unforgettable Baby

  If you knew and loved and followed Jenni Rivera, you also know that she absolutely adored butterflies. They were everywhere. At first, I honestly thought it was kind of corny. So one day, I just had to ask, “Why a butterfly?” Never in my life did I expect such a thorough and fantastic response. First, she sent me an article to read up on them, then she said: “Did you know that before a caterpillar weaves its cocoon and begins its metamorphosis, part of the fertilization comes from manure. So basically this silk worm needs manure to survive. It needs to live in shit in order to transform into a butterfly. I think that’s representative of my life because I’ve lived in shit. Before becoming a butterfly, I’ve had to live in shit in a cocoon. Only then was I able to get to where I am today.”

  She shut me right up with that answer and I got it. It made sense. In order to become the sensational Diva we admire to this day, she had to live and breathe a ton of shit. Oftentimes, she still felt the shit kept coming her way and made her doubt if she’d really ever made it to butterfly status. That’s what made her so real to all of us who loved and admired her. From family, to friends, to employees, to fans, we all felt understood by her because she got it. Her past was far from perfect, but she owned her perfectly imperfectness and showed us that despite all that shit, it was still possible to make something of ourselves, to become our dream. At the same time, she also knew how it felt when all the cards were stacked against you and how one kind gesture, which could seem insignificant to someone else, could mean the world to you. She understood people’s heartaches and pain because she’d lived through her fair share of them. She didn’t just sing about the ups and downs of life. She experienced them firsthand, and that’s why when her star finally rose, she wanted to share her good fortune with everyone around her.

  As Jen herself used to say, “When God gives us a lot, it’s our responsibility to give back.” It’s all the stories you’ve never heard, all the times she stopped what she was doing just to help her family, her friends, her loved ones, and strangers alike, behind the scenes, when the cameras were off—that’s what made Jen truly unforgettable. When she hit stardom, she didn’t lose herself in the glamour. She lived by those words and people loved her for that. She brought reality and relatability to the celebrity lifestyle.

  Jen was very different from other celebrities, even from her own brother, Lupillo. At the height of his success, Lupillo became the guy who drove the convertible Bentley, wore five-thousand-dollar suits, smoked expensive cigars, and lived in Marina del Rey. He became an unreachable star; his fans could no longer relate to him, which in turn created a big gap between him and his audience. Meanwhile, Jen’s reaction to fame was completely the opposite. The bigger her name became, the more grounded and in touch she was with her people.

  She’d have dinner at her favorite local mariscos restaurant and pump her own gas at the station, where people who recognized her would stare in awe. “Do you think I hire someone to pump gas for my car?” she’d say, laughing, and people gobbled it up. Those interactions with Jen on a day-to-day basis were priceless for her fans. She always managed to keep it so real. She’d even go to the corner street vendor to buy a raspado, leaving the vendor and customers’ mouths agape in admiration. “Is it really you?” they’d ask, incredulous. “Yeah, it’s me,” she’d say with a smile.

  What was unbeknownst to many people was that Jen was still that Mexican girl from Long Beach. She never lost that part of herself to fame and fortune. It was alive and kicking and it made her who she was. Of course she had the means to go shopping in Beverly Hills and all of those high-end stores, but she honestly always felt safer among the people in the barrio. She felt at home there, it rooted her. What also didn’t hurt is that she knew how to travel that fine line of communication with her fans, telling it like it is while still acknowledging their presence and love.

  If she was having a meal at a restaurant and an overzealous fan approached her begging for an autograph, Jen had a way of handling the situation that calmed the person down while also allowing her to continue what she was doing. “M’ija, I’m really hungry,” she’d say. “Just give me ten minutes to finish eating, and I’ll be sure to go over and give you a picture or whatever you need.” Obviously this didn’t work with everyone, but that was her, and they just had to deal with it. So, if they hounded her in the bathroom later, she’d smile and say things like, “Girl, you really wanna shake my hand now? Let me wash my hands first,” which would snap the fans back to reality and remind them that she was a human being too, and it only made them love her even more. On the other hand, those that took offense, well tough shit. Jen did her best to bridge the fans’ expectations of her as a celebrity by communicating and keeping i
t real.

  That was her secret, and it worked like a charm because of Jen’s unique personality. Jen had a way of saying “screw you” that made it feel like a compliment. She could call someone a hoochie, and that woman would feel like she had just been called a queen. It was done with so much cariño that it wasn’t offensive. It also helped that it came from a woman who embraced her imperfections and knew she was just as beautifully flawed as everyone else.

  Jen was truly just like us. She loved the simple things in life, like getting a mani-pedi, listening to music, and cooking for her family. She worked so tirelessly that these little things were the ones that brought a true smile to her face. Nothing like a day off eating frijoles with tortillas and salsita with her kids. She savored those moments like no other. And she didn’t have any help. She was the one behind the stove, doing the dishes, which was another part of her life that kept her grounded. What’s more, her food wasn’t just reserved for her relatives. She loved to cook for her work family too. If we had an early meeting scheduled at her house, when we arrived, we’d find her in the kitchen making breakfast for us, and I’m talking about when she was already Jenni Rivera la Gran Señora. She was just a giver by nature. She expressed her love through cooking and taking care of others; it really fed her soul.

  Early on, before becoming famous, when every penny counted, she would still go out and buy costume jewelry that looked like bling-bling, and during her gigs she would give it out to her fans as a token of her appreciation for their love and support. She was spending around three hundred dollars a week on giveaway jewelry, and I thought she was crazy, but to this day, those fans who still have a piece of that jewelry cherish it as if it were the holy grail. That was Jen, it was her essence. It’s not something you can teach; you’re either born with it or you aren’t. And Jen had it. She would literally take whatever she had on her plate and share it with you if you were hungry, so much so that she got in the habit of religiously contributing ten percent of her earnings to help others. Jen lived by faith and understood the work of God. She never preached about her Christianity because she understood how imperfect she was, but she was most definitely someone of strong faith, and giving was her church—that was her religion.