Unbreakable: My Story, My Way (19 page)

They drove two or three blocks in silence, and then Mom and Rosie started to shriek and cry tears of joy. The FBI agent kept repeating, “Glory to God. Glory to God.”

Rosie called me again and said the three words I had been waiting to hear for nine years: “We got him.”

“Fuck yeah!” I screamed.

“But poor little Diana. She lost her daddy.”

“Sister, don’t forget. My kids lost their daddy too. And what if he is hurting Diana too? You are probably saving her life.”

Later we found out that the FBI had been videotaping him and they interviewed all of his neighbors. One of the neighbors said, “I don’t talk to him. And my daughter is not allowed to play with his daughter.”

The FBI agent gave Rosie the handcuffs he had used to arrest Trino.

A few weeks later Rosie was going to sing her first solo in church. “Will you be there?” she asked me.

I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. She sang a song of victory with tears streaming down her face. I was crying too as she walked off the stage and handed the cuffs to me. I hugged my baby doll so tightly then. I was so grateful that God had given her such peace and helped her to find her voice and her path back to light.

In the parking lot I said to her, “Sister, you know how to perform. You are good onstage!”

“It was an altar,” she reminded me.

“Whatever. It looked like a stage to me. And you had presence.”

“I learned it from you.”

“Can I keep these?” I asked, holding up the handcuffs. “I want to use them for the cover of my book.”

“Of course, those are yours. You risked your career for us. You worked to give us justice. Those are yours.”

17

Look at Me

Mírame, no soy la misma de antes

esta sonrisa es por alguien que quiero a morir.

(
Look at me, I’m not the same as before

this smile is for someone I love to death.
)

—from “Mírame”

_{The day that we}
caught Trino, April 22, 2006, was so emotional. It was a relief and a victory because I knew there was finally going to be justice. But it was also so difficult because he was, after all, my children’s father. Despite what he had done, Chiquis and Jacqie kept saying, “We don’t want Dad to be hurt.”

Three days after the arrest we went to his arraignment, and I saw him for the first time in nine years. He never looked at me, but I didn’t take my eyes off of him. He wore a prison jumpsuit. His hair was cut shorter. He had done something to his face, but I couldn’t figure out what it was that looked different. He didn’t display a hint of remorse. I was angry, sad, and full of guilt and shame. Because he appeared
without a lawyer, we had to go back on May 2. He was held on a million-dollar bail because he was considered a flight risk.

After the first arraignment date, Chiquis, who was almost twenty-one, said to me, “Let’s not do this. If he says he’s sorry, can we forget about it?”

“Mija, we cannot let him go just like that,” I responded. “There has to be justice for you, for your sister, your Tía Rosie, and all the girls out there who are victims of this abuse. And I want you to one day have a relationship with your father. This is the only way that is going to happen.” Because Chiquis had been called a liar so many times by Trino’s family, I couldn’t let that go on for the rest of her life. I knew that taking him to trial was the right thing to do.

I did my best to stay strong for my daughters, but I was a mess inside. I confided in Rosie, “I can’t handle everything right now. I need you to talk to the lawyers, the detectives, and the police officers. Can you do that?” She nodded that she could.

A year earlier, in a promotion by a diamond company, the tagline was “Women of the world, raise your right hand.” The idea was that you didn’t have to wait for a man to buy you a rock, you could buy one yourself and wear it on your right ring finger. So I’d bought myself a gorgeous, large diamond as a symbol that I was independent and in love with myself.

When Trino’s trial was about to start, I took the ring off, handed it to Rosie, and said, “Sister, I’m giving you this ring for strength and support. Finally you are going to have justice and peace.” We called it the Victory Ring and she wore it throughout the trial.

The trial lasted nearly fourteen months. The courthouse was always packed. All of Trino’s family was on one side, and all of my family was on the other. I petitioned to bar cameras from the courtroom, but I could not prevent the journalists from being there since it was a public place.

As my popularity grew, so did the media’s interest in my personal life, and the trial was front and center. The two largest Spanish-language TV networks, Univision and Telemundo, reported every detail. On top of it all, I also had to go to court with my other ex-husband, Juan, who was demanding I pay him even more spousal support. Our divorce was still not finalized. On June 9, 2006, nine years to the day when I had married Juan, a judge in the Riverside family-law court decided I was to pay only $20,000 to his attorney, instead of the $100,000 that he’d asked for. He would get nothing else from me, and the spousal support that I had paid for three years (which was nothing close to the $6,000 a month he wanted) was to end. In fact, the judge decided that Juan owed me due to overpayments during those three years. Juan could try to fight for the house in Corona, but doing so would be costly and time-consuming. Instead, we decided to settle that out of court and finally put the legal battle behind us.

Once we were done fighting, Juan and I grew to be friends. We had two children together and some beautiful memories from our eight-year relationship. I decided to focus on that. He was nothing like Trino. He was a great father to Jenicka and Johnny, and I would always love him for that. He moved into an apartment less than five minutes from my home in Corona, and he saw the kids often.

On June 3, 2006, my song “De Contrabando” hit number one on the
Billboard
Regional Mexican airplay list. I was getting gigs in Mexico almost every weekend, and I booked my first concert at the Gibson Amphitheatre for August 5. I was excited and grateful to God to have something to look forward to besides wanting to strangle Trino with my bare hands.

I informed my manager, Gabo, that no matter what offer came along, we had to work around the trial. I would not miss a single day.
All of my brothers cleared their calendars as well so that we could be there for our sister and my daughters.

We had to go to court about once a month, and each time the courtroom was packed. Every single person from Trino’s extended family was there crying and shouting that he was innocent, despite all of the evidence and testimony indicating that he was guilty of the most disgusting and horrifying shit. I understand why they didn’t want to admit the truth. The truth was so fucking ugly. But it was there. Plain and simple. And sickening.

The day that Rosie and Chiquis gave their testimony tore my heart open all over again. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for them. Before Rosie took the stand, she was nervous and ashamed. “How am I going to say these words in front of my father?” she asked me. “In front of my brothers? And with Trino sitting right there?”

Lupe told her, “Just look at me, Sister. Whatever you do, don’t look at him. Look at me.”

“I can’t,” she answered. “It’s too embarrassing. It’s going to hurt you too much.”

“I can take it, Rosie. I will be fine. Look at me,” Lupe kept repeating.

Rosie did as Lupe said. She looked right at him as she narrated the details of her trauma. Tears streamed down all of our faces. Chiquis waited outside since she wasn’t allowed to be in the courtroom when Rosie gave her testimony. We took a recess, and before Chiquis was set to take the stand, she told me she wasn’t sure if she could go through with it. I sat with her on the bench in the hallway and said, “You can do this, princess. You can do this for all the other little girls who have suffered. For all the women who are afraid to speak out. You can be their voice. I am here for you.”

Her testimony was crucial to the case. Without it, Trino could possibly have walked free. I reminded her that we couldn’t let that happen. She bravely took the stand and spoke about what her father had
done to her since she was eight years old. She had to take breaks, but she got through it all with such strength. Much of what she said echoed Rosie’s testimony. The way it started, how it escalated, the threats he made, where and when he did it.

With each incident that they described, I would ask myself, “Where was I? Why couldn’t I stop it? Why couldn’t I protect them?” The guilt pressing down on my chest was unbearable, but I had to keep my head up. I had to show Rosie and Chiquis that I was a source of strength that they could lean on.

Aside from their testimony, there were the medical records, which could simply not be denied. Yet Trino and his family did still deny it. In the elevators and the hallways, Trino’s family would say, “You are fucking whores and fucking liars.” I wanted to beat them down, but we were in a courthouse and I knew I could get arrested and not be allowed to attend the trial with my daughters and sister. I refused to let my temper get the best of me.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t threatening. When Trino’s family was with us in the elevators, I told them, “What the fuck are you looking at? Turn around. Face the fucking wall.” When they called me a whore, I shot back, “At least I’m not ugly.”

On the morning of August 5, 2006, I was preparing for my concert at the Gibson. The same place where I had seen so many of my idols perform. The same stage where Vicente Fernández brought me up to sing in 2001 and then told the audience that I had the talent to make it.

As I was getting ready, my managers called me and told me we were sold out and I was the first female
banda
artist to sell out the Gibson. I started to cry. When I took the stage on that unforgettable summer night, the tears continued. I was crying tears of joy for all of my blessings. Tears of pain for all of my heartache. Tears of gratitude
for the thousands of fans who sang along with me, cheering for me, shouting out that they loved me, every chance they got. Amid the nightmare I was living, it was a dream come true.

In October 2006 Trino posted the million-dollar bail. I have no idea how the asshole came up with the money, but we thought for sure he was going to flee. Instead, he showed up at the next court date in a suit and tie. Now that he was no longer in a prison jumpsuit, Trino appeared confident and cocky. As he walked out of the courtroom during a recess, he looked at my brother Lupillo and smiled. My son Michael, who looked to all of his uncles as father figures, lunged at Trino, the man he did not consider a father at all. Michael punched Trino in the face, and in seconds an all-out street fight broke out in the courtroom. At least forty Riveras and Maríns were punching, pulling hair, and banging heads. Every cop in the courthouse ran in to break it up, and though they had the right to arrest us all, they let us off with a warning.