Selena 
Future Forum: Guilt, Innocence, and the Death Penalty 
The Sweet Song of Justice
It took the jury less than three hours to find Yolanda Saldivar guilty of murdering Selena. But for two weeks in October, all of Texas followed the most sensational trial in years. A behind-the-scenes look at what happened inside the courtroom.
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The Families
Both the Quintanilla and the Saldivar families came from humble Mexican-American roots and had survived and flourished by sticking close to their kin. The Quintanillas lived in three adjacent homes on Bloomington Street in the Molina neighborhood of Corpus Christi, the Saldivars in four houses and a trailer on five acres just beyond the southern city limits of San Antonio. While the Quintanillas showed signs of wealth—they wore expensive clothes and brought along their own family spokesman and publicist—the Saldivars were a true blue-collar family.
The 56-year-old Abraham Quintanilla, a forceful presence, was a dominant figure at the trial not only because the defense portrayed him as the one who drove Yolanda to buy the murder weapon but also because he was Selena’s father and her business manager. On many occasions since the shooting he had shown himself to be a tough business manager, cutting deals and maximizing profit from all things Selena. He held countless press conferences to announce, among other things, the creation of the Selena Foundation; to introduce his new discovery, twelve-year-old Jennifer Peña, who resembles a young Selena; and to reveal his role as executive producer of the movie being made about Selena’s life, which filmmaker Gregory Nava was writing from the father’s perspective.
He became increasingly hostile to the media, though, after the value of Selena’s estate was published in the San Antonio Express-News in September. Probate court documents revealed that her net worth was only $164,000 and that Chris Perez had given up his right to administrate the estate to Abraham.
At the trial, Perez appeared thoroughly devastated by the loss of his wife, though the handsome, ponytailed 26-year-old is a delicate figure by nature. Before the trial, he said that he wanted to continue playing guitar, focusing on rock music. He also answered critics who questioned the handling of the estate, saying, “I didn’t have a lawyer just like Selena didn’t have a lawyer. We didn’t need a lawyer because this is family. And why should I worry about losing something? I have already lost what I always wanted. I would trade everything I had if I could have her back.”
Marcella Quintanilla, Selena’s attractive mother, had said little publicly following the shooting in March. She was having just as much trouble as Perez coping with her daughter’s death. When motel maintenance worker Trinidad Espinoza began recounting Selena’s last moments, Marcella was overcome and had to leave. The next day, she was admitted to the coronary unit of St. Joseph’s Hospital for overnight observation.
Yolanda’s mother, Juanita, was the only Saldivar to attend the entire trial, usually accompanied by one of her six other children and various nieces and nephews. Gray-haired and wrapped in a sweater, she was the living embodiment of the pobrecita abuelita, the “poor little grandmother.” On several occasions, she too had to be escorted out of the courtroom, overwhelmed with emotion. Yolanda’s father, the diminutive Frank Saldivar, had recently retired after forty years of balancing enchilada plates and glasses of iced tea as the headwaiter at Jacala Restaurant in San Antonio. He spent his sixty-ninth birthday on the stand, fighting back tears and imploring jurors to have mercy on “our baby girl.” After sentencing, Juanita and Frank crossed the rail and hugged and kissed Yolanda good-bye.
The Street
Every day, Selena fans gathered outside the courthouse and made their feelings known by holding signs, wearing shirts, or shouting chants such as “Ju-sti-ci-a!” or “Cien años!” As the trial neared conclusion, their numbers swelled and the mood took on a vindictive streak, evidenced by a “Hang the Witch” placard, posters that depicted Saldivar in handcuffs standing in the middle of a target with the words “la marrana” (“the sow”) written underneath, and a “Kill Yolanda” message painted in white shoe polish on the windshield of a Toyota. But imagination was at work too. One sign paraphrased a line from the new crossover country hit of Selena’s old labelmate and duet partner Emilio Navaira: “There Can Never Be Enough Justice for Selena, But It’s a Damn Good Start.”
The celebrations around the courthouse following the guilty verdict and the sentence were marked by the strange sight of tears on the faces of many fans, especially older women. For them, Selena had already evolved from a pop star into an icon of grief.
The Media
There were more than two hundred media credentials issued for the trial, with almost as many Spanish-language media as English-language media. The most thorough TV coverage came from the two Spanish-language networks, Univision and Telemundo, both of which aired at least ninety minutes’ worth of coverage daily. Univision’s Marie Celeste Arraras—the doe-eyed, henna-haired anchor of “Primer Impacto,” a news program seen throughout the United States and in fifteen foreign countries—was the trial’s undisputed media star, judging from the fans’ wolf whistles and the way they crowded her on the street. Her program had the most knowledgeable courtroom analyst, former Corpus state district judge Jorge Rangel, who knew Texas law and the players in the trial.
The O.J. Effect
As murder trials go, the one in Houston had little to do with the O.J. Simpson trial in Los Angeles other than it involved homicide and a celebrity. Nevertheless, comparisons were frequently made. Before the trial, Abraham Quintanilla observed that after the O.J. verdict anything was possible. Once the trial began, the fear spread through barrios in Texas that Saldivar might get off as a result of police officer Paul Rivera’s questionable handling of the confession. Selena’s own Mark Fuhrman was going to mess everything up.
The verdict shored up trust in a legal system that has come under increasingly close and critical scrutiny. It proved to Texas’ largest minority group that the criminal justice system, flawed as it may be, really does work. Following the trial, the League of United Latin American Citizens announced a campaign to urge Hispanics to seek jury duty.
Waiting for the Jury
While the jury deliberated the sentence, the mood in the courtroom turned informal and almost jovial. Sheriff’s deputies ceased patting down media when they reentered the courtroom. A bailiff approached Yolanda Saldivar and whipped out a court pass, asking her to sign it. Pretty soon, members of the press were slipping their passes to Arnold Garcia for Saldivar to sign. Westergren and Valdez were signing autographs too. The Saldivar family sought out the autographs of several reporters. Tinker posed for sketch artists and quipped, “If the jury never comes back, it would be fine with me.” Two spectators dozed off. So, briefly, did Abraham Quintanilla, sitting alone in the family-seating section. This was hardly the stuff of a trial of the century.
When the sentence of life in prison was returned, Carlos Valdez saluted the jury. Douglas Tinker announced that he would appeal. Following the final press conference, the same man who was fretting about being followed by angry Selena fans was still being hounded. But the fans didn’t want Tinker’s head. They wanted his autograph.
The Future
In addition to the Selena movie, her band’s farewell tour next spring, and other Selena memorial projects, Abraham Quintanilla has been building a roster of young talent for his custom label distributed by Capitol EMI. A 900 number has been set up for fans to telephone condolences to the family for $3.99 per call. Selena’s sister, Suzette, handles the boutiques and Selena merchandising. Selena’s brother, A.B. Quintanilla III, has been busy producing acts in the recording studio and writing. His composition “Estúpido Romántico,” co-written with former Selena backup singer and popular solo act Pete Astudillo, was a big hit for the Tejano supergroup Mazz, and he recently composed a theme song for a Mexican soap opera. He has just moved his wife, Vangie, and their two children to a palatial new home west of Corpus. Chris Perez is looking for a new place too. The three Quintanilla homes on Bloomington Street will soon be an empty nest.
Family Matters
Back inside the friendly dimly lit confines of Buster’s Drinkery—two hours after the jury had returned its verdict—the conversation shifted from law to family. Tinker had spent the previous weekend camping out in the woods of Alabama. “My son attends boarding school there and it was parents’ weekend. I hadn’t seen him in several months,” he said. Garcia spoke lovingly of his son, Javier, a metal sculptor. They agreed that no matter how hard you try, you can never tell how your kids will turn out. Abraham and Marcella Quintanilla loved their daughter and had tried to protect her; Frank and Juanita Saldivar loved their daughter, too. And they all wound up in a court of law in Houston, where twelve strangers passed judgment on why everything turned out so badly.
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