From Revolution to Exile: 1980s Glory and Internal Betrayal

In 1980, when ACCE first formed, few could have predicted the saga that would follow. The band’s origins were remarkable: four young women breaking into a male-dominated hard rock scene. Anne (lead guitar), Colette (lead vocals), Christine (bass), and Elaine (drums) had talent and charisma to burn. They also had Donna Carlin on keyboards in the early days – and it was Donna who became the catalyst for their first and most personal betrayal.

Donna’s expulsion on the eve of recording their debut album was dramatic and, for those who knew, scandalous. Accounts differ on what exactly happened. Some say Donna tried to assume creative control or undermined Colette’s leadership; others hint at vicious infighting or even a personal betrayal (rumors of Donna having an affair with Colette’s then-boyfriend circulated in the fan mags). Whatever the cause, Donna Carlin was voted out of the band just as they were poised for success. The remaining four defiantly rebranded themselves “ACCE ’EX’ DC,” literally meaning “ACCE without DC,” to signify that Donna was gone by their choice. Their logo even famously featured the letters ACCE in bold, with “DC” struck through by a lightning bolt. It was a public jab at their former bandmate – a risky move that could easily have backfired if the band failed.

But the band did not fail. In 1981, ACCE 'EX' DC’s debut album, pointedly titled “ACCE not DC”, exploded onto the charts. Fueled by the hit single “Ex-Communicated” (widely interpreted as a message to Donna), the album reached #1 around the world. Audiences were enthralled by the band’s ferocious sound – imagine the raw power of AC/DC crossed with the New Wave of British Heavy Metal, but fronted by women turning the tables on rock’s macho tropes. The media attention around Donna’s abrupt disappearance only amplified the buzz. In interviews, Colette delivered a catchy one-liner: “Three’s always better than two,” a spiteful spin on the album’s eventual title and a reference to ditching their “2C” (to Carlin) to become ACCE. The press ate it up, dubbing them the “band of sisters who stabbed a sister in the back.” That label would haunt and define them in equal measure.

The early 1980s saw ACCE 'EX' DC at the peak of the rock world. Their second album, 1983’s “Broken Hearts Come With Broken Wallets,” confirmed their superstar status. It spawned multiple anthems – songs about heartbreak and vengeance delivered with a wink (the title track, Broken Hearts…, was a satirical jab at how love and money intertwine). The record went multi-platinum, and the band headlined a global tour that became the stuff of legend. They played sold-out shows across North America, Europe, and Japan, shocking conservative critics with their raunchy stage antics and delighting fans with their musical prowess. On stage, Colette strutted with a snarling confidence, Anne shredded solos while dressed as a dominatrix nun, Christine and Elaine held down thunderous rhythms. Off stage, their exploits fed the tabloids: hotel rooms destroyed in fits of rock’n’roll excess, Champagne baths, and extracurricular activities that ranged from hilarious to alarming.

It was during the 1984 European leg of this world tour that ACCE 'EX' DC truly cemented both their fame and infamy. They performed at major festivals – notably bulldozing their way through the Monsters of Rock festival at Castle Donington, UK, on a bill with giants like AC/DC and Van Halen. They did not pale in comparison; one reviewer noted that ACCE 'EX' DC “out-snarled and out-sexed many of the male acts” and that their set was a highlight of the day. Yet Europe also brought bizarre encounters that hinted at the intrigue to come. In Madrid, after a triumphant arena show, the band was confronted at a reception by a flamboyant middle-aged man introducing himself as Count Cortezuma. He claimed to be a descendant of Spanish Conquistadors and told the bewildered rockers that should anyone find Montezuma’s treasure, it belonged by right to the Spanish crown and its heirs. The band had heard wild fan ramblings before, so they laughed it off – Christine reportedly joked, “Mate, if we find any gold, we’ll buy you a drink with it.” Little did they know how relevant the Count’s ravings would seem decades later.

On that same tour, in the glittering casinos of Monaco, Christine embarked on a short-lived liaison with a charismatic rogue known as Giovanni “Gio” Cannoli. Gio was rumored to have underworld connections (his nickname in gossip columns was the “Capo of Cannoli” for his mix of charm and menace). Christine was smitten for a few weeks – paparazzi snapped them arm-in-arm on the Côte d’Azur – but the fling ended after Gio allegedly tried to involve her in a dodgy investment and she balked. He left her with a bruised heart and, reportedly, some unpaid bills for a Lamborghini he “loaned” her. This messy affair, coming on the heels of Donna’s betrayal, deepened Christine’s cynicism about trust.

By 1985, ACCE 'EX' DC attempted to evolve beyond their scandalous image. Their third album, “Three’s Always Better Than Two,” took a more artistic turn. It featured brooding ballads and complex arrangements alongside their usual hard rock fare. Critics in the UK lauded the album, some even calling it a masterpiece that proved the band’s musical legitimacy. But commercially it underperformed in nearly every market. The timing was off – pop and synth-driven acts were on the rise, and some rock fans hadn’t forgiven them for the Donna drama or simply weren’t ready to take the women seriously as artists. The one place the album struck a chord was Patagonia. For reasons that still puzzle industry analysts, a single from the album, “End of the World (End of the Line)”, became a massive hit on Patagonian radio. The album shot to #1 in Patagonia and stayed there for weeks, even as it languished elsewhere.

Perhaps it was fate or just the allure of truly being appreciated, but the band made a bold choice: they moved to Patagonia. In late 1986, ACCE 'EX' DC relocated their base to the windswept town of El Calafate in southern Argentina. This was more than a publicity stunt; it was an attempt to find peace and start anew far from the grind of LA and London. In interviews, Colette said they were inspired by the natural beauty and the passion of their Patagonian fans. Implicitly, they were also escaping – from the British press that still hounded them about Donna, from the pressures of sustaining their peak fame, and from a sense of guilt and emptiness that had settled in once the thrill of revenge and success wore off. They were mega-stars who felt oddly out of place in the world they’d conquered. Patagonia offered an almost mythic refuge at the “end of the world,” and they embraced it.

The Rowan Mallon Chapter: Love, Gold, and Betrayal in Patagonia

For a time, Patagonia seemed to deliver on its promise. The members of ACCE 'EX' DC found a quieter rhythm of life. They bought a ranch on the Argentine steppe, spending days horse-riding and nights jamming under the southern stars. In the small but adoring Patagonian rock community, they weren’t freaks or pariahs – they were heroes who had chosen this remote land over global superficiality. It was here that they crossed paths with a man who would define their lives for the next 40 years: Rowan Mallon.

Rowan Mallon (also known by his birth name, Rowan Jennings) was already a living legend in his own right. In his youth, Rowan had been an adventurer and treasure hunter of some repute – magazine articles from the 1940s and 50s had dubbed him “the last real Indiana Jones”. By the time he met ACCE 'EX' DC in the late 1980s, Rowan was in his eighties, though still vigorous and magnetic. He had an estate in Patagonia and was, as locals described, a polyglot drifter with a mysterious past. One local rumor claimed Rowan was hiding from creditors or enemies – that he had “vanished from the world’s stage” decades earlier. Another rumor, we now know, hinted at Rowan’s undying obsession: that he was in Patagonia chasing whispers of a “lost Jesuit treasure” or some other elusive fortune.

The band met Rowan when he hired them to play at a charity benefit for a Patagonian school (Rowan was a respected philanthropist there, donating gold coins to local causes). After the show, he invited the musicians to dinner. There was an instant rapport. Rowan was witty, erudite, and treated the women as equals – a refreshing change from the condescension they’d faced in the industry. To Colette, Rowan was perhaps the first man she couldn’t easily intimidate; that intrigued her. To Christine, he was a cultured soul who spoke poetry and listened gently – something she desperately needed. Anne found in Rowan an intellectual sparring partner fascinated by history as she was, and Elaine loved Rowan’s trove of traveler’s tales and offbeat humor. Soon, Rowan became ACCE 'EX' DC’s manager and mentor. Under his guidance, the band stopped worrying about commercial hits and focused on music that pleased them. Rowan also helped invest what remained of their fortune, and for a while, stabilized their finances.

Rowan Mallon’s role in the band’s dynamic cannot be overstated. He was a father figure, a confidant – and likely more. It was widely believed (though the band never confirmed it publicly) that each of the three women had, at different points, a romantic entanglement with Rowan. The situation could have been combustible, but oddly it wasn’t, at least not initially. Perhaps because Rowan never officially “dated” any of them exclusively, and handled his bonds with care, the women were able to compartmentalize. Or perhaps the band, matured by hardship, chose not to let jealousy tear them apart again. If minor jealousies sparked, they were quickly subdued; none of them wanted a repeat of Donna. In private diaries later leaked, Christine hinted that she, Colette, and Elaine had once sat down and almost jokingly “apportioned” aspects of Rowan – Christine got his companionship on intellectual pursuits, Elaine got his adventurous side, Colette his strategic business mind – as if to avoid fighting over the whole man. It was an uneasy but enduring ménage à quatres, cloaked under the more palatable narrative that he was just their wise old manager.

In 1990, Rowan Mallon brought the band a proposal that changed everything once again. Gathering them around a fireplace on a chilly Patagonian night, he spoke of the legend of Montezuma’s Gold. Montezuma II, the last Aztec emperor, was said to have hidden an enormous treasure from Spanish conquerors in the 16th century – a trove of gold and jewels that had never been found. The idea of lost Aztec gold had tantalized adventurers for centuries (including Rowan in his younger days, it turned out). Rowan presented research suggesting the treasure, or part of it, might have been moved south over the years – perhaps by Jesuit priests or opportunistic conquistadors – possibly as far as the Andes or even Patagonia. He showed them a fragment of an old map and a journal entry from a dying priest, both hinting at “Montezuma’s gift” lying hidden beneath southern stars.

For ACCE 'EX' DC, Rowan’s proposal resonated powerfully. They were artists at a crossroads, nearing 30, with their youth and fame behind them and a desire for meaning ahead. Bankrolling Rowan’s treasure expedition felt like a grand new adventure – one where they could potentially rewrite their legacy on an epic scale (imagine: the disgraced rockers redeeming themselves by discovering Montezuma’s lost gold – what a story!). It also appealed to their sense of loyalty to Rowan; if he had a dream, they wanted to help fulfill it. They agreed to fund Rowan’s quest, pouring most of their remaining assets into the venture. A simple contract was drawn up: Rowan would use the funds to mount an expedition across South and Central America, and if successful, would share half of any treasure recovered with the band. It was informal – scribbled on paper, without legal scrutiny. The women toasted the deal with Rowan under the Patagonian sky, believing wholeheartedly that they were now partners in something monumental.

Rowan left Patagonia in mid-1990 to chase the legend. In his occasional letters and satellite phone calls, he was cagey but optimistic. He trekked through rainforests, combed archives in Mexico City, bribed his way into closed libraries at the Vatican, and hacked through jungles in Honduras. Years passed. The band tried to remain patient and productive. They did smaller tours in Latin America, began writing songs for a potential fourth album (though their hearts weren’t in music much anymore), and waited for Rowan’s return. By 1994, they were in dire financial straits – essentially living on credit and hope.

So when Rowan Mallon finally returned to their Patagonian ranch in 1994, it was with enormous expectations. Their elation at seeing him alive quickly turned to anxiousness: what had he found? Rowan looked worn and haunted. At a tense reunion by their hearth, Rowan revealed what he had brought back. It was not chests of gold coins, nor heaps of Aztec artifacts, but rather four heavy, ornate golden lockets. Each locket was identical: a disc of ancient, hand-hammered gold adorned with Aztec symbols – a sun, a serpent – on a strong gold chain. He silently handed one to each woman. The band members were stunned; the pieces were clearly not of modern make. The aura of antiquity and immense value was undeniable. In that moment, each of them realized Rowan had indeed touched Montezuma’s treasure in some form.

However, Rowan’s explanation was maddeningly sparse. He said that “circumstances forced me to take only these”. He implied that more treasure existed but was inaccessible or too dangerous to retrieve at present. He refused to specify where or how he got the gold to make the lockets (whether he melted down a larger item, for example, or if they were found as-is). He did promise that he was “working on a plan” to secure the rest. The band’s reactions were mixed. Colette was furious at Rowan’s reticence – in her view, they had thrown away their career for him, and all he offered were trinkets and excuses. Christine was heartbroken; she trusted Rowan deeply and couldn’t reconcile his secretive behavior with the man she loved. Elaine oscillated between awe at the tangible proof of the legend and dread – she remembered those Patagonian superstitions of a curse on the gold and wondered if misfortune was bound to follow.

Over the next year or two, the relationship between Rowan Mallon and ACCE 'EX' DC deteriorated. The gold lockets became symbols of contention. The women never took them off – they were too precious, both in value and in what they represented (proof of Rowan’s success and perhaps proof of his betrayal). At times, one of them would catch Rowan gazing at the lockets with a strange expression – as if weighing whether to tell them something. But he never did. Meanwhile, the band’s finances reached a breaking point. Rowan, feeling perhaps guilt or obligation, kept them afloat with personal loans (or advances from whatever he had salvaged of the treasure). But by the late 1990s, the once-rich rock stars were effectively pensioners under Rowan’s care. They lived in a beautiful Patagonian homestead but had to sell off royalties and assets back home to cover costs. Creatively, they were inert – no new music had come in years.

During this time, Donna Carlin’s specter was never far. Donna’s own life had not gone well – her solo career fizzled, and she drifted through bad relationships and odd jobs. She occasionally popped up in European tabloids, bashing her former bandmates as she always did. But by the 2000s, even Donna’s bitterness wasn’t news anymore. ACCE 'EX' DC seemed destined to fade quietly into obscurity, remembered only by 80s rock enthusiasts and Patagonians.

A Fight for Legacy: The 21st Century – Reality TV, Scandals, and Old Scores

Entering the 21st century, Anne, Colette, Christine, and Elaine were in their late 40s, living together in a sort of suspended animation. The world had largely forgotten about ACCE 'EX' DC. But they hadn’t forgotten the world – or forgiven it. Beneath the surface calm of their Patagonian life, resentment and regret festered. They felt cheated: by Donna’s treachery, by the music industry’s fickleness, by Rowan’s opacity, and even by themselves for not achieving a more secure future. These feelings eventually catalyzed them into doing something they once would have never imagined: returning to the spotlight via reality television.

In 2020, the launch of “Real Housewives of Patagonia” on the NotFlix network was met with equal parts curiosity and derision. The premise – former rock vixens now raising llamas and reminiscing about glory days – had a slapstick quality. Yet the band approached the show seriously. For them, it was a lifeline: the one way to earn significant money and possibly reshape their narrative. If they could show the world how much they’d grown, maybe they’d earn sympathy (and revenue). And if not, at least they’d go down fighting rather than being slowly erased by time.

The first season of Real Housewives of Patagonia garnered decent viewership. It was undeniably fascinating to see these once larger-than-life figures in domestic scenes. There were moments of genuine humor – like Elaine chasing an ostrich that had wandered into their yard, all while cursing in Spanish – and moments of pathos – such as Christine breaking down in tears on camera recalling a fan letter about how her lyrics saved a young girl’s life back in 1983. The women showed flashes of their old camaraderie, but also of the tensions that still lingered: the cameras caught Colette and Anne arguing bitterly one night after Colette accused Anne of “not being there” when Colette had a health scare. Audiences saw real, aging people, not just rock caricatures, and some were moved.

However, reality TV thrives on continuous drama and novelty, and the initial intrigue waned. By Season 2, the storylines (the band gardening, the band shopping in town, petty fights over trivial issues) grew repetitive. Ratings slid. The producers, eager to spice things up, attempted to engineer more conflict: they suggested inviting Donna Carlin on for a surprise confrontation. The band vetoed that vehemently. They did allow a few orchestrated stunts – like a “band therapy” on-camera session with a psychologist – but those segments turned uncomfortable rather than entertaining. By 2023, Real Housewives of Patagonia was barely hanging on, and the network signaled the 2024 season would likely be the last. Financially, the band managed to pay off some debts with their reality TV earnings, but their hopes of it leading to a renaissance were dwindling.

Then came the double blows of 2024–2025 that rekindled their fighting spirit: the NotFlix documentary and the resurgence of old adversaries. The NotFlix film was the brainchild of Beverly Hills (a punny moniker she embraced), a producer known for sensational reality content. Beverly had sniffed a story in ACCE 'EX' DC: rise and fall, with a treasure hunt twist. But her approach was merciless. Titled “Where Are They Now? ACCE 'EX' DC”, the documentary painted the women as delusional has-beens. It juxtaposed their 1980s interviews (brimming with youthful arrogance) with current footage of them squabbling over grocery bills. The Montezuma’s Gold chapter was presented as a borderline scam – implying Rowan might have duped them or that they foolishly chased a myth. Beverly even included reenactments with actors: one scene had a grey-haired actor playing Rowan cackling as he buried gold ingots, as if mocking the very idea of the treasure. Throughout the film, a snarky narrator and “talking head” commentators took shots at the band. One cultural critic quipped, “ACCE 'EX' DC? More like Excess DC – they had it all and blew it on ego and fantasy.” Another segment had a roundtable of young musicians chuckling at ACCE’s flamboyant 80s videos, calling them “cheesy.”

While the band had braced for some criticism, they were devastated by the sheer cruelty and ridicule. They felt publicly humiliated. The documentary trended online for days – not out of respect but as a circus sideshow. Memes were made of Colette’s angry outburst (taken from a show clip) where she shouts “I’m not dead yet!” – users paired it with images of decaying mummies. Christine’s heartfelt ballad “Stay Wild” was remixed into a mocking TikTok tune. The band members largely retreated from the public eye after this, refusing most interviews. They issued a statement that they were “exploring legal action” against NotFlix for defamation, but it was more a gesture of defiance than a practical reality.

Donna Carlin, of course, delighted in this spectacle. She emerged on social media (a space she’d barely used before) to amplify every insult at her former band. Donna’s tweets included statements like: “Karma’s a gold-plated witch, isn’t it? #ACCE_saga” and gleeful retellings of how she “saw it coming” that the band would “sell their souls to reality TV and get what they deserved.” Donna’s sudden alliance with Tina Tout was notable – Tina, a gossip blogger (characterized by one colleague as “a tabloid gadfly live-blogging drama for clout”), had covered the NotFlix doc extensively. Tina wrote a scorching piece titled “Montezuma’s Revenge: The Curse of ACCE ’EX’ DC”, suggesting the band was cursed by the very treasure they sought (mixing fact and myth in a tantalizing way). She lambasted their reality show as “a pathetic grasp at relevance” and implied they were under divine punishment – echoing Sister Margarita’s rhetoric, which Tina cynically noted “even a stopped clock (or a crazed nun) is right twice a day.” The band, especially Colette, grew to loathe Tina Tout; her blogs and tweets were not just criticism, they were deeply personal attacks that fueled public ridicule. Tina would post side-by-side photos of Colette in 1981 vs. 2021 with captions like “Rock Queen to Ranch Hand – how it started vs how it’s going,” garnering thousands of laughing reactions.

Then, in late 2025, Rowan Mallon died, and everything changed. His death, at such an advanced age, made headlines. Suddenly, interest in Rowan’s storied life – and by extension, the band’s connection to him – surged in a more respectful way. Mainstream media publications ran obituaries praising Rowan’s adventurous exploits (mentioning his rumored Montezuma obsession in a romantic light). Importantly, it became known that Rowan left a substantial estate including Mallon Hall in Ireland and possibly other assets accumulated over decades (perhaps the results of liquidating some treasure, though that was speculation). For ACCE 'EX' DC, Rowan’s death was personal – they lost someone they loved. But as the initial shock subsided, a stark realization dawned: this was their last chance to salvage their own legacy and finances. If Rowan had truly found treasure or at least grown wealthy, the band wanted – needed – their share. In their eyes, they had paid for it in sweat and blood.

They announced their intention to attend the will reading. This immediately raised eyebrows in Rowan’s more traditional circles (like his estranged family) and drew the attention of opportunists sniffing a fight. The band knew they would face skepticism; after all, what claim did a trio of former clients have on Rowan Jennings’ estate? That’s when Colette produced the old contract from 1990. The paper was yellowed and had never been formalized, but there on it was Rowan’s signature (or a very convincing facsimile of it). If genuine, it was a bombshell: evidence that Rowan acknowledged a debt regarding Montezuma’s treasure. The band’s publicist (hired specifically for this battle) hinted in the press that “legally binding documents” proved Rowan intended the band to be taken care of. Suddenly, the narrative began to shift: it wasn’t just a faded rock band grasping for money, it was potentially a story of a promise and obligation.

Of course, those opposed to the band were not idle. Rowan’s surviving kin – including a daughter, Verity Mallon, who had her own resentments – geared up to contest any such claims. Figures like Sister Mary Margarita, who held sway in some circles, decried in a public letter the “greed of certain parties to despoil an honourable man’s legacy” (her choice of words dripped with irony, given her own hunger for Rowan’s “sacred” relics). The local Irish press got wind that “a rock band from the 80s” would be attending the will reading, which added a sensational angle to what would normally be a staid family affair.

Amid this tension, ACCE 'EX' DC prepared meticulously. They secured legal counsel in Dublin (though the contract’s validity was dubious, the lawyer advised that just raising the specter of it could be a strong bargaining chip). They also quietly allied with one of Rowan’s former servants, Daisy Dagger – a name out of a novel. Daisy had been Rowan’s maid in the 1970s and had her own axe to grind: she claimed Rowan fired her unjustly years ago without paying due wages, and she knew “where some bodies were buried.” In truth, Daisy Dagger had a penchant for inserting herself into the drama; she had shown up at Mallon Hall after Rowan’s death, demanding recognition for her service. The band saw an opportunity – Daisy carried gossip and possibly documents (she hinted she had once swiped pages from Rowan’s journal) that could bolster the band’s narrative of being wronged or that might embarrass Rowan’s legitimate heirs. They tacitly agreed to support Daisy’s bid for some compensation if she, in turn, helped their cause. However, in classic ACCE fashion, they did not pay Daisy upfront. After extracting what information they could from her – mainly confirming some names of Rowan’s beneficiaries and a hint that Rowan had indeed left behind clues about Montezuma’s gold – the band sidelined the ex-maid. Daisy Dagger, feeling used, fumed that the band had promised her “a slice of the pie” but now refused to answer her calls. Enraged, she began leaking tidbits to Tina Tout (which explains how Tina got some inside scoops for her blog). So by the will reading, Daisy Dagger had become another enemy, lurking on the periphery with intent to sabotage the band if possible.

January 2026. As the date of the will reading neared, Anne, Colette, Christine, and Elaine flew to Ireland together – their first time traveling abroad as a group in years. They were no longer the fierce young amazons in leather, but hardened, graceful women in their 60s bearing the visible and invisible scars of their journey. The world’s media had a brief flash of interest in their arrival at Dublin Airport: photographs showed them in black coats and sunglasses, walking in step, a united front. One viral image captured Colette clutching the gold locket around her neck – a shining circle against her chest – as she walked past reporters. The caption in a British paper read: “ACCE 'EX' DC: Still Chasing Gold.”

The band members kept their public statements measured. To the Irish Times, Colette simply said, “We’re here to honor Rowan’s legacy and ensure his wishes are respected.” Privately, however, they were steeling themselves for battle. They expected a hostile reception from Rowan’s family and associates. They knew Donna would likely be present or have a proxy there. They suspected even Sister Mary Margarita might send a representative (if not attend in person – the Sister’s appetite for influencing Rowan’s estate was well-known given her longtime insistence that any Aztec artifacts be “purified” by her order).

Each of the band members carried something symbolic (and practical) into this confrontation: Anne carried a binder of documents – including the contested contract and records of payments they made to Rowan – to press their financial claim. Colette carried Rowan’s personal journal (or rather, crucial pages from it) which the band’s ranch hand Santiago had given them quietly before they left Patagonia – this journal contained Rowan’s own admission of finding part of the treasure and his guilt about not fulfilling his promises to the band. Christine wore Rowan’s locket openly and had prepared a heartfelt speech to remind everyone of how much of Rowan’s later life was entwined with theirs (she knew appealing to emotion might be key). Elaine carried something more discreet but potent: a small recorder in her purse – in case voices were raised and truths spilled that she’d want on tape for leverage.

They were done being victims of fate and fortune. ACCE 'EX' DC arrived at Mallon Hall in County Donegal with one goal: to secure their future and vindicate their past. After all the betrayals – Donna’s, Rowan’s, the media’s – they believe this is the moment to get what they deserve, their “just deserts.” And as Colette sardonically quipped to her bandmates as they walked up the manor steps, “We like our just deserts salted, caramelized, and served cold.” Their pursuit of justice, tinged with revenge, was at hand. The stage was set for one more explosive chapter in the saga of ACCE 'EX' DC – a chapter where truths would be unmasked and debts, perhaps, finally paid.