Jenni Rivera - Unbreakable: My Story, My Way

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We want to dedicate this book to YOU. Thank you for not only taking the time to read our mothers life story, but for allowing yourself to feel inspired by the woman we not only love but admire.

A special thank you to all of our mothers fans, because we know her life wouldnt have been half as blessed if it wasnt for the love and support you all gave her. We love you.

Jennis little soldiers: Chiquis, Jacqie, Mikey, Jenicka and Johnny

Ahora estoy, entre luces hermosas

mas cuando estaba sola, s que Dios me cuid.

( Now I am among the beautiful lights,

but when I was alone,

it was God who took care of me. )

from Mariposa de Barrio

Sunday, January 26, 1997

The night began at El Farallon, a popular nightclub in Lynwood, California. El Farallon was where you went to hang out with your friends and get lost in the music, forgetting everything else for just a few hours. It was where I met Juan Lpez, my second husband, after locking eyes with him across the dance floor. Most important, it was where many regional Mexican singers launched their careers. And it was where I decided to shoot my first music video, for my song La Chacalosa (The Jackal Woman).

My father had done business with the owner of El Farallon, Emilio Franco. Franco said we could shoot the video before the doors opened at 9:00 p.m. At the time, my dad, known to many as Don Pedro Rivera, was one of the biggest producers of regional Mexican music. He had always been my biggest supporter, especially in those early days when I was struggling to break out. He had plans to buy commercial airtime for this video to promote La Chacalosa.

I wasnt making much money with my music. It was difficult to get my songs on the radio because I refused to fit into the mold of the typical Latina singer. I should have been younger, thinner, softer, quieter, dumber. In the Latino community, female singers were supposed to be beautiful and superskinny, and their music was supposed to be silly. Latina singers were meant to be looked at and not really heard. But I wasnt eye candy. I was considered overweight. I was considered not to have vocal talent. And I was singing strong, ballsy corridos (folk tales, often involving drug dealers). I probably intimidated the men. No other women were singing corridos . It was like a woman rapping. Women werent thought to be tough enough, or real enough, to be singing about the gritty world of drug dealers. The people in the industry tried to make me change. If you want to make it in this genre, they said, you have to do this or that. A lot of women had to do sexual favors to get played on the radio. Fuck that. I wouldnt do it. I wanted to make it based on my talent or not at all.

At the time we shot the video for La Chacalosa, I was working as a Realtor to support my three children and myself. Music was secondary. Juan Lpez, the man I later married, was serving a seven-month prison sentence after being charged with smuggling immigrants. He was set to be released in three weeks. Because I didnt want to be alone, my sister, Rosie, and her friend Gladyz came with me when I would go out at night for a music gig. On this night they sat in the nearly empty club watching me do several takes of the song. I thought we would be done by nine, but by the time we finished taping at around nine thirty, a few customers had started to trickle into the bar area. Before we left I went to the ladies room. As I exited the restroom, a man grabbed my right arm to make sure he had my attention. Arent you El Cincos lady? he said. El Cinco (The Five) was Juan Lpezs nickname. I distinctly remember looking into this mans green eyes as he tugged roughly at my arm. He was making me upset and he knew it. Leave me the fuck alone, I told him as I broke away, wondering how he knew Juan and why he cared if I was Juans lady.

I picked up my things and walked out of the club with Rosie and Gladyz. I was in a bit of a rush because they were both still in high school, and this was a school night. I wanted to get them home as quickly as possible so we wouldnt get in trouble and they would be allowed to hang out with me whenever they wanted. I was never one to have many friends, especially since Juan scared many of them away with his temper and his rude behavior. Now that he was incarcerated, I was a loner. Hanging out with the girls was fun and helped keep me busy until his release.

First I dropped Gladyz off at her house on Walnut Avenue in North Long Beach, then I dropped Rosie off at our parents house on Ellis Street, just a few blocks away. It was only 10:30, so we were in the clear. Once I made sure Rosie was in the house, I turned up the music and began the drive back home. I was living in beautiful, gangsteriffic Compton. Being a Realtor, I had bought a house there as an investment and decided to live in it for a while. It wasnt the best neighborhood, but I was happy to have a place to call my own. I couldnt wait to get to my bed that night. I was singing along to my all-time favorite CD, 15 xitos , by Marisela, as I drove down the 91 freeway west.

As I exited right onto Central Avenue, I noticed the car behind me flashing its high beams. It got closer and closer as I slowed down to see if I knew who it was. I didnt recognize the small white sports car and I couldnt see who was driving. The driver flashed his high beams again. What the fuck? Was I driving too slow? Did I forget to turn on my signal? Suddenly, the car sped up alongside my green Ford Explorer, purposely trying to sideswipe me. Thats when I realized not just one but three men were in the car, and I started to get scared. I sped up, hoping that they were just messing around with me. They werent. They would drive behind me, then speed up and try to run me off the road and into the parked cars on Central Avenue. Shit. What the hell am I going to do? I said to myself.

I was approaching my house on Keene Avenue and didnt want these men to know where I lived. I was living alone with my three young children. Our house had been broken into just two months earlier, and everything had been stolen. Thats how the neighbors had found out that my husband was locked up and wasnt there to protect us. All of this was running through my mind as I kept driving around the block, hoping these guys would magically disappear. My whole body was shaking. Finally, I stopped close to my house, though not in front of it. Maybe theyll just leave, I kept saying to myself. How foolish.

Their car stopped behind me and I could see that the men were ready to step out. I didnt know what to do, and fear took over. I decided that I would make a run for it. I would run as fast as I could, the way my brothers had taught me to when we played baseball as kids.

I opened my car door and started sprinting in my high heels, screaming at the top of my lungs. I did not look back. I could hear the sound of their boots running after me. I ran, I screamed louder. I cried. I prayed that someone would hear me. If they did, nobody came to my rescue. The boot steps were gaining on me. My high heels were slowing me down. Suddenly I felt two pairs of strong arms grab me. I had been caught. I tried to fight back. I kicked and screamed. I wasnt going out easy. I was the gangsta bitch from Long Beach. The Rivera rebel who never lost a fight.