DISGRACELAND - Mariah Carey: Armed Guards, Gang Burglaries, and the True Meaning of Christmas

Episode Date: December 19, 2023

Mariah Carey once lived under constant surveillance in her own home. Her husband planted cameras and recording devices around their prison-like mansion to watch her every move. He hired armed guards to follow her everywhere but the bathroom – the same armed guards who nearly shot Mariah’s collaborators when she unexpectedly dipped for a 30-minute joy ride. Despite her record-breaking five-octave pipes, Mariah Carey didn’t didn’t have a voice in her relationship for years. And when she did finally speak up to get a divorce, that’s when her husband’s stalking ended…and his sabotage on her career began. To see the full list of contributors, see the show notes at ⁠www.disgracelandpod.com⁠. This episode was originally published on December 19, 2023. To listen to Disgraceland ad free and get access to a monthly exclusive episode, weekly bonus content and more, become a Disgraceland All Access member at ⁠disgracelandpod.com/membership⁠. Sign up for our newsletter and get the inside dirt on events, merch and other awesomeness - ⁠GET THE NEWSLETTER⁠ Follow Jake and DISGRACELAND: ⁠Instagram⁠ ⁠YouTube⁠ ⁠X⁠ (formerly Twitter)  ⁠Facebook Fan Group⁠ ⁠TikTok⁠ To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is exactly right. Double Elvis. When a group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist, they take matters into their own hands. I vowed, I will be his last target. He is not going to get away with this. He's going to get what he deserves. We always say that trust your girlfriends. Listen to the girlfriends.

Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you thought it was. Your identity is formed by a secret history. I'm Danny Shapiro. And these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring on the 14th season of Family Secrets.

He kind of shoved me out of the way and said, move. And he went out the front door and he jumped in a car and drove off. And that was the last time I saw him. Listen to Season 14 of Family Secrets, starting May 7th, on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea, with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark.

When, like, young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do. You'd rather be disappointed in. Do that. David O'Yello. I love this podcast,

whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Dennis Leary, Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things, Tana Monjou, Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Disgrace, Land is a production of Double Elvis. The stories about Mariah Carey are insane.

Her sister drugged her and pimped her out when she was only 12 years old. Her first husband hired not one but two security guards to follow her every move. Then he held her at knife point, well, a butter knife in front of his friends. She lived under a microscope in a mansion full of hidden cameras and recording devices. A squadron of armed guards patrolled her home. That same squadron almost shot her colleagues when she disappeared for a 30-minute joyride. But even when she endured an oppressive home life, no one could imprison the decade-defining five-octive voice of Mariah Carey.

She wrote countless number one albums and number one singles while essentially in lockdown, including that undying harbinger of holiday joy that starts playing the moment your Thanksgiving leftovers hit the freezer. I'm talking, of course, about all I want for Christmas is you, because under any circumstances, Mariah Carey made great music. Unlike that music I played for you at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my Melotron called Doodily Do Do Doodoo MK1. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to That's the Way Love Goes by Janet Jackson. And why would I play you that specific slice of moth to a flame cheese could I afford it?

Because that was the number one song in America on June 5, 1993. And that was the day 24-year-old Mariah Carey married Sony CEO Tommy Motola, locking her into eight years of constant surveillance in one hell of a marriage. On this episode, Sister Pimps, Mansion Imprisonment, an all-time holiday banger in the diva, Mariah Carey. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is Disgraceland. Mariah Carey tells us every year that she doesn't want a lot for Christmas. Not presents, not packages, boxes, or bags.

She just wants a little old-fashioned holiday joy. That feeling you get when you hear Nat King Cole sing about chestnuts and open fires. Or when you take the first bite of a warm sugar cookie, fresh out of the oven. Every year, like clockwork, Mariah's ubiquitous holiday hit reminds us that all she wants for Christmas, nothing else. And every year, we believe her. But on this particular Christmas, Mariah Carey had so much more. If Santa's workshop is in the North Pole, his secret second home is a ski chalet in Aspen, Colorado, a.k.a. Mariah Carey's holiday house. Every room in the chalet looks like a Norman Rockwell painting.

Two Christmas trees glow in the windows. One sparkles with homemade ornaments and family photos. And the other is decorated with butterflies and cherubs. Snow angels and sleigh tracks dimpled the fresh coat of snow outside. Inside, rich scents waft through the halls. Stuffed shells. Linguini with white clam sauce. Coco, cookies, and decadent cakes.

This is Martha Stewart, level hosting on your Italian grandma's pep pill stash, the ultimate winter wonderland for the woman who owns Christmas like no one else, especially today. Because today, December 25, 2019, Mariah Carey's Inescapable Christmas song, All I Want for Christmas is you, is at number one on the Billboard Hot 100, 25 years after its release. Not that she needed another number one song. Hell, she already broke Elvis Presley's record for the most number ones 11 years earlier back in 2008. She was doing just fine for herself with or without a new chart topper. But this one just felt different, personal. All I want for Christmas was never a love song.

It was a wish, a prayer for a Christmas, just like today, filled with family, harmony, joy. Because it wasn't always like this. There wasn't always children's laughter in the air and sleigh bells ringing on Christmas Day for Mariah Carey. Often, there was screaming, arguing, insults flying across the room. And maybe even fists. There was no Christmas music at the Carrie household tonight. Only a chaotic symphony of raised voices,

harsh words, sharp as knives, meant to cut right to the bone. Mariah was eight years old, or maybe ten. Didn't matter. Most Christmases went down like this in her family. The pattern was always the same. Mariah's mother would scrape together whatever she could to deck her modest home with holiday cheer. Advent calendars filled with chocolates, mulled wine with a hint of cinnamon in every sip. She worked with what she could afford in order to make every Christmas a memorable one.

And they were memorable Christmases, just not in a good way. because Mariah's older siblings sucked the holiday atmosphere out of the year the second they stepped through the door. Their names were Morgan and Allison, and they didn't think twice about stealing Christmas from their little sister. They resented Mariah and their mother for living together without the two of them away from their quick time. Morgan, Allison, and Mariah shared the same parents,

a white Irish mother and a black Venezuelan father. But they didn't share all the same traumas. Morgan and Allison dealt with the wreckage of their parents' divorce when Mariah was only three years old. Around the same time, their mother seemed to grow a backbone and told her father that, quote, he would not beat this one, unquote. In reference to Mariah, Morgan and Allison thought Mariah got off easy with the divorce. They thought she got off easy with everything. The way Morgan and Allison saw it, Mariah was the golden child.

Mariah had lighter skin, dirty blonde hair. But Morgan and Allison didn't know that the same hair remained an unkept tangled throughout Mariah's childhood because their mother didn't know how to properly style and maintain black hair. They didn't know the kids still cornered Mariah's sleepovers just to hurl racial slurs at her. She wasn't immune to the ugliness of racism, no matter how light her hair or her skin was. Morgan and Allison, though, they couldn't see any of that. They just saw a white passing girl shielded by her white mother in a white neighborhood on Long Island. Mariah was more protected than Morgan and Allison ever were.

That's why Morgan and Allison didn't give a shit about protecting Mariah. Go ahead. Let her dream about a happy holiday season, a corny one filled with caroling and snowball fights. Moriah could wish all she wanted. It wasn't going to happen. Not here. And not if Morgan or Allison had anything to say about it. The man was dead before the smoke from the gunshot could clear.

Blood spouted from the wound in his neck as he fell to the floor with a thud. His wife surveyed the grisly mess before her. She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to be the murderer. It was supposed to be Morgan. Morgan was the kind of young adult who mingled with the wrong crowds, the kind that could get blood on your hands if you weren't careful. Morgan was no stranger to violence.

Physical fights with his father taught him how to fend for himself at an early age. The police were sick of prying the two men off of each other to the point where Morgan and his father couldn't even legally be next to each other anymore. So, it's not that's not that's. surprising that the wife of a man named John William Maddox reached out to Morgan through a mutual connection and made him a tempting offer, kill her husband, and she'd fork over 30 grand. Morgan agreed and accepted $1,200 up front. Morgan never thought twice about tearing into his own father, but in the end he couldn't tear a stranger's head off, even if it paid well. He let the

future black widow do her own dirty work, and then he snitched. Mariah was in the third grade, she saw the courtroom sketches, heard Morgan whispered to their mother about avoiding jail time. The fact that her brother was involved in her murder case wasn't shocking to her. She understood what Morgan was capable of, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out her sister Allison. Allison's attacks on Mariah were sporadic. She drugged Mariah with a full tab of Valium. She tossed a cup of boiling tea onto Mariah's back, giving her third-degree burns. One time, Allison even offered Mariah a long fingernails worth of white powder, which, thankfully, Mariah didn't accept.

Allison egged her on. Just try it. Just a little bit. Who cares? Twelve-year-old Mariah cared. Thank you very much. She booked it home and abandoned Allison in her hefty bump of cocaine. Allison did what she always did.

Acted normal and loving for a little bit, just long enough to quell Mariah's anxiety. She rang Mariah one afternoon and said she and her boyfriend would be by to pick up Mariah for some quality time together. Mariah eagerly waited outside to watch for their car. Sure enough, Allison's boyfriend pulled up right on time. But there was no Allison in the passenger seat. It was just him and the handgun on his thigh. Twelve years old is a funny age. Mariah was just old enough to know that her sister's mystery powder was actually drugs,

but she was too young to know her sister's boyfriend. was also her pimp. As Mariah got in the car, the pimp boyfriend promised her they'd link up with Allison later. In the meantime, he had places to be, like the drive-in movie theater. The boyfriend parked the car. Allison never showed.

So Mariah became the boyfriend's date by proxy, or maybe by design. He knew better than to take Mariah, a 12-year-old, to the drive-in. And he definitely knew better than to kiss Mariah on the lips in the front seat of his car. It was unspeakably wrong, not to mention unspeakably stupid.

In a gassed onlooker in the car parked next to them gawked at the assault in plain view through the passenger window. The pimp boyfriend backed down and drove Mariah home without another word. Finally, someone was looking out for her. Thank God someone was watching. There's two golden rules that any man should live by. Rule one, never mess with a country girl.

You play stupid games, you get stupid prizes. And rule two, never mess with her friends either. We always say that trust your girlfriends. I'm Anna Sinfield, and in this new season of the girlfriends, Oh my God, this is the same man. A group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist. I felt like I got hit by a truck. I thought, how could this happen to me?

The cops didn't seem to care. So they take matters into their own hands. I said, oh, hell no. I vowed. I will be his last target. He's going to get what he deserves. Listen to the girlfriends. Trust me, babe.

On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. I'm Kate Winkler Dawson, host of the Wicked Words podcast. Each week I sit down with the true crime writers behind some of the most compelling true crime stories and discuss their years spent investigating. and why it still matters.

He sees his father coming out of the woods with his hands over his face, and he knows something happened. His father just grabs him and says she's gone. She's gone. These are the cases that leave survivors, families, and the journalists who cover them changed forever. Working in national television, it'll push you to your limits, and you'll end up doing things you never thought you'd do.

You know, you look back at it, and you're like, I can't believe that. that really happened. Join me and step inside the investigation. New episodes drop every Monday on the Exactly Right Network. Listen to Wicked Words on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Remember when you'd walk into your local video rental place and there were always those two employees behind the counter arguing about movies? Well, that's us.

I'm Millie de Cherico. And I'm Casey O'Brien. And now we're arguing about movies on our podcast. Dear Movies, I love you. from the exactly right network. Can I say something about the Criterion Clause? Go ahead, dude. They're letting too many people in there.

Okay, that's another film, grape I got two. Sadly, that rental place doesn't exist anymore. It's probably a store that sells running shoes. Or an ice cream shop with an extra P and an E at the end. So consider us your slacker movie clerks in podcast form. I would like to establish a timeline of the moment you figured out who Channing Tatum was. Every Tuesday, we dig into the movies we can't stop obsessing over, from hidden gems to big screen favorites. New episodes drop every week on the exactly right network.

Listen to Dear Movies I Love You on the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Mariah carries black Mercedes race towards her mansion. One hand on the wheel and the other holding a half-eaten French fry. Mariah's friend, Chicago rapper, De Brat, claimed the last one of the fries in the fast food bag from the past. message receipt. They exchanged a glance and burst into giggles over absolutely nothing. De Brat's phone buzzed. She didn't have to answer to know who was interrupting their bubble of girl time. It was Jermaine, who was back at Mariah's home recording studio with the girl group X-Scape. He was blowing up DeBrat's phone every five minutes. Germain Dupre was the kind of guy to crack down on a 30-minute break

when it was time to record a new collaboration. Mariah's husband, Tomiard's husband, Tom, Tommy Motola, on the other hand, he was a different story. De Brat snapped her phone open. Again. Yo, Brad, get the fuck back. De Brat didn't get it. They were one mile away at Tops. After picking up a lousy order of drive-through French fries, what was so wrong with that?

She couldn't see what was developing on the other end of the phone. Back in the studio, the guard leaned over the console and looked Jermaine DePri dead in the eye. He was going to ask him one more time. No clue. The guard escalated from a question. into a demand. Tell us where she is. The guards began to pull their guns from their holsters.

Germaine's blood iced over. Uh-uh, not today. He wasn't going to get shot over a joyride. He dialed the brat again, but the guards were sick of waiting. They were on the move now, filing into two black SUVs for a rescue mission. The men didn't have far to go. Mariah's bends was already winding up the lengthy driveway. Pass the security station, past both gates, directly towards the small.

all militia of men assembled outside the mansion. Mariah's home looked like something out of a kid's imagination. The Georgian-style mansion sprawled across a whopping 22,000 square feet. French windows punctuated its timeless red brick exterior, staggering double-stacked chimneys in the roof. Two gazebos, one for each pond in the backyard, separating Mariah from her neighbors, fashion designer Ralph Lauren and film producer Stanley Jaffe.

It was a vision straight out of a picture book, like a fairy godmother dropped the castle in upstate New York. Mariah called it Storybook Manor. Her extravagant hamlet was nestled in Bedford, New York, 40 miles outside of Manhattan. Out here, New York City was just a concept. There were so many things to do with Storybrook Manor that Mariah and her husband Tommy barely needed to leave the estate.

And that's exactly how Tommy liked. Thing is, Tommy wasn't just Mariah's husband. He was her boss, too. He was the CEO of Sony Music Entertainment and a big wig at Columbia Records, one of Sony's main record labels. In 1988, Tommy signed Mariah to Columbia Records and proceeded to pump Sony's flush budget into her debut album. Sony forked over $800,000 just to produce the record, another million for marketing and promotion. Tommy topped it off with another $500,000 to remake one of Mariah's music videos. He didn't flinch at the frightening amount of zeros it took to roll out Mariah's self-relipped.

title debut. Everything in Tommy's world was big by design. Big security measures, big Glock in his briefcase, big chauffeurs driving big armored limousines. The acts he worked with were even bigger. To his credit, Tommy kick-started the careers of some of music history's biggest names, starting with Hall and Oates. He'd go on to sign decade-defining artists of the 1990s in early 2000s, including Celine Dion, Destiny's Child, Shakira, and Jennifer Lopez. When artists said yes to Tommy Matola, they won big. It was not in your best interests to tell him no under any circumstances. Even if he asked to start a romantic relationship with you despite a 21-year age gap, even if you wanted to get married and build a $30 million mansion, in Mariah Carey's case, all of the above.

Mariah wielded an earth-shattering five-octive voice, but she didn't have an... actual voice. Tommy was the only person allowed to say no in the relationship. No music that a man like him couldn't easily relate to. No social outings with friends. No acting lessons. No privacy, period. Tommy hired two bodyguards to specifically follow Mariah's every move, even within their own home. They had strict orders. Trail Mariah like a shadow, everywhere except the bathroom. and when she has to powder her nose, wait for her outside the door. So long as Mariah was at Storybook Manor, Tommy never had to wonder what she was doing. He could watch over his wife at any hour, like a shepherd guarding his flock, or more accurately, stalking it.

He loved the buzzed Mariah using the intercom system installed throughout their mansion, or take a peek at his wife through one of the hidden cameras and recording devices nested throughout the house. Mariah didn't even know where they all were, and that was Tommy's secret, because Tommy was allowed to keep secrets, but for Mariah, keeping secrets was a serious offense. She still managed to keep a few things to herself, though, like her inside joke about storybook manner, which she privately nicknamed Sing Sing,

a reference to the infamous maximum security prison in New York, not that Mariah could share the joke with anyone since she wasn't even allowed to see or make her own friends. Then there was the emergency bag that Mariah stashed underneath their bed, filled with just enough necessities to leave on a moment's notice. That was laughably sad, too. Mariah couldn't even sneak into the kitchen at night to write lyrics without Tommy butting in on the intercom.

What you doing? So Mariah found the workaround. The one place she knew, Tommy hadn't planted any recording devices. Her shoe closet. One of the opulent touches Mariah tacked on when the home was designed. Tommy got a subterranean shooting range replete with a bona fide artillery. of weapons and Mariah got a 64-channel recording studio and a shoe shrine modeled after Coco Chanel's own closet. So when De Brat wanted a grand tour of Storybook Mansion earlier that

day, Mariah knew that the shoe closet was the only place they could speak freely. That was where they could hatch a daring plan. Mariah spoke softly, as if she were talking about scoring a brick of cocaine. Want to go get some French fries? Sneaking out of Sing Sing, I mean Storybook Manor, was that serious. Debrat didn't understand that at first. She didn't get Mariah's tone or Germaine's frantic calls. But when the two women returned home to an army of guards, each armed and ready to reclaim Mariah, it clicked. Mariah and DeBrat were gone for maybe 30 minutes,

but even half a minute out of Tommy's jurisdiction was unacceptable. It was a close call, a little too close for Tommy's comfort. He needed to crush Mariah's desire for these little excursions. But from Mariah, the road to freedom was just beginning. We'll be right back after this word, word, word. There's two golden rules that any man should live by. Rule one, never mess with a country girl. You play stupid games, you get stupid prizes.

And rule two, never mess with her friends either. We always say that trust your girlfriends. I'm Anna Sinfield, and in this new season of the girlfriends, Oh my God, this is the same man. A group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist. I felt like I got hit by a truck. I thought, how could this happen to me? The cops didn't seem to care.

So they take matters into their own hands. I said, oh, hell no. I vowed. I will be his last target. He's going to get what he deserves. Listen to the girlfriends. Trust me, babe. On the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

I'm Kate Winkler Dawson, host of the Wicked Words podcast. Each week I sit down with the true crime writers behind some of the most compelling true crime stories and discuss their years spent investigating and why it still matters. He sees his father coming out of the woods with his hands over his face, and he knows something happened. His father just grabs him and says she's gone. She's gone. These are the cases that leave survivors, families, and the journalists who, who cover them changed forever. Working in national television, it'll push you to your limits,

and you'll end up doing things you never thought you'd do. You know, you look back at it and you're like, I can't believe that really happened. Join me and step inside the investigation. New episodes drop every Monday on the Exactly Right Network. Listen to Wicked Words on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Remember when you'd walk into your local,

Video Rental Place, and there were always those two employees behind the counter arguing about movies? Well, that's us. I'm Millie to Cherico. And I'm Casey O'Brien. And now we're arguing about movies on our podcast. Dear Movies I Love You, from the Exactly Right Network. Can I say something about the Criterion Clause? Go ahead, dude. They're letting too many people in there. Okay, that's another film grape I got to. Sadly, that rental place doesn't exist anymore. It's probably a store that sells running shoes. Or an ice cream shop with an extra pee and an... at the end.

So consider us your slacker movie clerks in podcast form. I would like to establish a timeline of the moment you figured out who Channing Tatum was. Every Tuesday, we dig into the movies we can't stop obsessing over, from hidden gems to big screen favorites. New episodes drop every week on the exactly right network. Listen to Dear Movies I Love You on the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. She felt the cold metal dig.

into her cheek. Her mouth went dry. She didn't dare breathe, let alone shift an inch in her seat. She just stared at the fireplace in front of her, careful not to let her gaze wander. Not over to Tommy, not to his colleagues gathered at the dinner table. The nerves in her face prickled with fear. She could feel the metal warming against her cheek now. The situation was inevitable. Frankly, it was amazing that Tommy hadn't cornered her sooner. But, but Mariah Carey was well aware she was in a dead-end marriage, locked inside a designer dungeon they called home, a 1990s version of Ronnie and Phil Specter.

She fully expected to die at Storybook Manor and then haunted, her trademark whistle notes rattling the rafters for all of eternity. At least it wasn't a gun being held to her face. Tommy could have pulled a pistol on her or any of the other weapons he kept at home. No, this was a knife, a butter knife. Tommy grabbed it and slowly swiped it across his wife's face, right in front of their company. Tommy could sense a breakup was on the horizon, and he wasn't the one doing the dumping.

So he started making concessions to smooth things over. He let Mariah take those acting lessons. She was allowed to attend social events without him, as long as she was accompanied by armed security, of course. He even bought her a red convertible jaguar. But these were empty gestures. Mariah was ready to walk and she was strong enough to walk. That's what pissed Tommy off the most. The Mariah had the audacity to leave him after everything he did for her.

Tommy took Mariah in when other labels couldn't make heads or tails of her groundbreaking blend of pop and R&B. He gave her a home at Columbia and Sony when Atlantic said they already had their teen girl star. Or when Motown said they didn't want, quote, another Tina Marie situation, unquote, meaning a situation where listeners couldn't tell if she was, was white or black. Honestly, though, Tommy's attitude about Mariah's biracial identity wasn't much better. He tried to steer her away from anything adjacent to hip-hop for as long as possible. In his eyes, it was a successful strategy. Mariah's self-titled debut album went to number one in 1990 on the Billboard Hot 200. It remained there for 11 consecutive weeks. Mariah maintained a

stranglehold on the top of the Billboard Hot 1002, bagging four back-to-back number one singles with the iconic rollout of fantasy, Always Be My Baby, Honey, and My All, between 1995 and 1998. Fantasy actually debuted at number one, an unprecedented feat in Billboard history for a female solo act. Tommy even convinced Mariah to make a hit Christmas album at the time when original holiday music took a back seat to the same old Bing Crosby jingles. Tommy did all that for Mariah.

Or maybe Mariah did all that. for Tommy. Maybe Tommy had it all backwards. Mariah was the one who wrote all these genre-defying hits, and she curated a sound that was mature for teen pop, yet too danceable to be dismissed as easy listening. Tommy had a little saying, You do what you do and I'll do my magic. But Mariah didn't need magic when she had talent in spades. And deep down, perhaps Tommy knew it too. Back at the dinner table, in front of the guests, Tommy drew the moment out, Let Mariah sweat with the knife pressed to her cheek. He flexed what little power he still held over her.

Their colleagues didn't tell Tommy to knock it off. Just like everyone else in Mariah's life, too scared to say anything. People who worked with Tommy Motola knew about the poorly concealed wrath that simmered just below his cool facade, ready to boil over at any moment. Saying no to Tommy Matola never worked out well for anyone. And then again, Mariah's reward for saying yes to Tommy for eight plus years was a knife digging into her face. She officially had nothing left to lose.

After that night, she used her five- octave voice to make one of the biggest moves of her career. She said no. No to constant surveillance. No to sleeping with a getaway bag under her bed. No to public humiliation and fearing her own husband. Mariah Carey filed for divorce in 1997 and started chatting up labels

who could buy her out of her contract with Columbia. Virgin Records stepped up to the plate with a hundred million dollar deal. So long Sony and Sayanara Sing Sing. As of 2001, Mariah Carey was free of Tommy Motola as both a boss and a bow. Or so, she thought. In reality, nothing was ever that simple. Because you don't just leave Tommy Matola. What's my motherfucking name?

The deep-voiced rapper delivered that line and the booming opening moments of the song playing on Mariah's stereo. And Mariah couldn't believe what she was hearing. She knew that voice, not just because she was a fan of the artist that it belonged to, because it was in her new music too, her unreleased music. Jarl Rul thundered over another pop star's delicate voice

of the chorus of the song. Someone clearly wanted to beat Mariah to the punch on dropping a collab with him, and whoever it was wanted it to feel like a slap. in the face. Mariah didn't have to sit and wonder who was behind all this. There were certain coincidences pertaining to Mariah's new music that had her ex's name written all over them. Coincidence number one, Rainbow.

Mariah's final album with Columbia received a suspiciously low amount of promotion. And we're not just talking about a low budget and lack of planning. Mariah heard that Tommy actually pulled her stand-up ads in promotional materials from record stores. The gloves had come off. Coincidence number two, Mariah sampled the song, Firecracker, by Yellow Magic Orchestra,

for her new song, Lover Boy. But before Loverboy could hit airwaves, another artist sampled the same track, a new girl on the block named Jenny, Jennifer Lopez, Columbia's new It Girl. She not only stole the sample, but she turned around and released her own song,

I'm Real and record timing. It felt state, Deliberate, but apparently that blow wasn't enough. Coincidence number three. The I'm Real remix featuring none other than Jha Rule, directly after he and Mariah worked on a new collaboration called If We. Not to mention the negative stories about Mariah's personal life that were popping up with the papers seemingly out of the blue.

It all added up to one thing. Sabotage. Mariah suspected Tommy Motola had industry spies lurking around, reporting back to him in Columbia. Fine. If Tommy was going to hire Moles, then Mariah was going to hire a spy of her own. She dialed a San Francisco detective

whose former clients included President Bill Clinton and Courtney Love. Mariah's heart skipped a beat when the private investigator contacted her with the results. No, she wasn't imagining things. Yes, her beliefs were founded. That's a quote.

Mariah never took Tommy to court over the whole ordeal. She didn't need it. to. Once the private dick started making comments to the papers about the case, the coincidence is mysteriously tapered off, even though Tommy denied everything. Less than two years later, in 2003, he left Sony. Maybe Tommy's magic with Columbia finally ran out. And maybe it was all slight of hand to begin with. The men reviewed the plan one more time. This property was more complicated than their usual hits.

4.2 acres of land, nearly 13,000 square feet of mansion, nine bedrooms, 13 bathrooms, unlimited potential for looting, but also unlimited potential for failure. This robbery would be a big one if they could pull it off. Bigger than robbing the rapper Gunna, or any of the airhead social media influencers

they targeted in the past, even bigger than stealing from players for the Atlanta Falcons and Atlanta United, The so-called drug-rich gang pulled off those burglaries without even cracking a gatorade. They were efficient, slick. Their members had been swiping from homes in the Atlanta area for years. Their men marked themselves with hats and chains branded with the letters, RX. One of the men got those letters inked on his face.

They flaunted their affiliation the way celebrities cloaked themselves in Louis Vuitton's LV logo and Gucci's signature interlocking G's. Drug-rich membership was something to be coveted. Nothing intimidated their men. Not luxury carjacking, not armed home invasions, not even committing false imprisonment and holding a 16-year-old girl hostage, killing time while the other men made off with their family's Beamer and Mercedes. Drug-rich took care of business. The gang had ways of keeping pesky tenants in their place if they interfered with a burglary.

It was nothing to force someone out of the shower at gun. point, even less to fire in the direction of a family member lingering at home. And if the threat of bullets didn't keep nuisances out of the way, the Drug Ridge gang had more inventive ways of securing the bag, like tying up an unlucky homeowner with a makeshift dog leash and walking him on all fours until the job was done. But the gang didn't have to worry about anything like that today. The owner of the targeted estate wouldn't be home. She made that clear on Instagram with posts from the P-E-T awards in Los Angeles. She shared a photo of her goddess-like figure

wrapped in a luxurious black Dolce and Dubonner dress that cascaded into a gold train. The estate's owner had a taste for extravagance that was unmatched. Legend had it that she even had a room in her house just for shoes. That's how the Drug Rich gang knew that they'd have plenty of clothes to choose from at Mariah Carey's house. On June 27, 2022, the gang sent three men for the task. Just enough hands to carry a serious amount of loot.

They crept across the estate's sprawling acreage, broke down the back door with brute force, guns on their hips, bags in their hands to fill with clothes and shoes. The gang left all electronics in their place. This trip was all about the designer trip. Later, the men left as quietly as they entered, the bags over their shoulders bulging with bling.

It was just like, It was that time on December 25th when everyone's Christmas fever started to wind down. Signs of a successful holiday were scattered around Mariah's ski chalet, empty cups of cocoa and eggnog, shredded wrapping paper overflowing from trash cans, a seasonal playlist on low volume but still humming in the background. All I want for Christmas is you was naturally tossed into the mix, which was 100% appropriate. On Christmas Eve, 2022, all of the day. All I Want for Christmas is You crushed the record for single-day streams on Spotify's global charts

with over 21.2 million spins. It was just as true with 2022 as it had been in 1994. Mariah Carey owned Christmas. But owning Christmas doesn't come from streams and record stores. For Mariah Carey, it meant a little bit more. It meant making her own security and her happy place when no one was protecting her. or someone was protected. The September burglary at her Atlanta home was behind her by now.

Mariah put the estate on the market that fall. The Drug Ridge gang invasion had shattered her sense of safety, so she moved out and she moved on. It wasn't the first luxurious mansion she had to walk away from, and it might not even be the last. But she'd leave all over again if she had to, because Mariah knew that the real luxury was finding security. Even if it meant walking away,

from the people who claimed to love her, even if she had to make her own sense of peace and preserve it in a Christmas song. And no sibling, no husband, no burglary could take that away from Mariah Carey. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is Disgraceland. Disgraceland was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis.

Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page at disgracelandpod.com. If you're listening as a Disgraceland All-Axist member, thank you for supporting the show. We really appreciate it. And if not, you can become a member right now by going to disgracelandpod.com slash membership. Members can listen to every episode of Disgraceland ad-free.

Plus, you'll get one brand new exclusive episode every month. Weekly unscripted bonus episodes, special audio collections, and early access to merchandise and events. Visit disgracelampod.com slash membership for details. Rate and review the show and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, and Facebook at Disgracelam pod, and on YouTube at YouTube.com slash at Disgraceland Pod. Rockerola. When a group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist, they take matters into their own hands. I vowed. I will be his last target.

He is not going to get away with this. He's going to get what he deserves. We always say that trust your girlfriends. Listen to the girlfriends. Trust me, babe, on the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you thought it was.

Your identity is formed by a secret history. I'm Danny Shapiro. And these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring on the 14th season of family secrets. He kind of shoved me out of the way and said, move. And he went out the front door and he jumped in a car and drove off. and that was the last time I saw him. Listen to season 14 of Family Secrets,

starting May 7th on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea, with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When, like, young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do?

Rather be disappointed in. Do that. David O'Yellow-O. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Dennis Leary, Gait and Moderato from Stranger Things, Tana Monsu, Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.