A horse-drawn carriage for Fredi Rivero’s funeral on Saturday – he died after an attack in February

THE daughter of a pensioner who died after being attacked in the street has spoken about her family’s grief.

Fredi Rivero, 75, died in hospital on February 28 – the day after the incident in Seven Sisters Road. He had been heading home after seeing friends at the Hercules pub in Holloway Road.

Three girls, aged 14, 16 and 17, have been charged with manslaughter.

Mr Rivero’s only daughter – who did not want the Tribune to use her name in print – spoke this week about her father, a “kind-hearted gentleman” who was friends with everyone.

“No matter what happens in the courts, I’ll never get my dad back,” she said.

“My dad is a victim and I’m a second victim, because I’m feeling the effects of all this as well. And it’s not just me, it’s friends, family, and the local community who are asking for some justice for what happened.”

Born in Bolivia to a middle-class family in 1949, Mr Rivero moved to London in the 1970s when he was invited here as part of an architectural engineering scheme.

Seeking to “broaden his horizons”, he threw himself into the fashion and music of the moment, wearing platform shoes and becoming a fan of Queen and David Bowie.

He got married and had his daughter in the 1980s, and the family moved to Holloway in 1986.

Mr Rivero, above, and below, as a boy with his family in Bolivia

It was around this time that he made a surprise career switch to work for the luxury Mayfair hotel Dukes, where he stayed for more than 25 years until retirement.

“There was something that captivated him about being there – he just didn’t want to leave,” his daughter told the Tribune.

Mr Rivero was always a talented artist – his daughter remembered him drawing a portrait of Henry VIII and his wives to help her with a school history project, writing beautiful calligraphy in her birthday cards and signing off letters to his father back in Bolivia with a signature flourish.

Mr Rivero could have “conversations with anyone about anything” and many of his friends – from Dukes, from the Hercules pub, and from north London’s Bolivian community – attended his funeral last Saturday, where his daughter paid tribute to her “beloved Daddy”.

“He was a guiding light in my life and a pillar of strength for our family,” she said.

“One of the qualities that defined my dad was his unwavering kindness, and how gentle he was with everyone.”

She also read aloud – in both English and Spanish – a poem she had written in his memory.

“Your legacy of love and strength persists in every heartbeat, in every moment, in every sigh.

“This poem is my sincere tribute to you, beloved Daddy, who turned infinity into your sailboat.”

She told the Tribune that despite her father’s adventurous move across the world in his early 20s, he was a man of routine and simple pleasures in his retirement.

“He came to stay with me four or five days a week and at least two days a week he would stay at his place so he could see his friends,” she said.

Floral tributes to Mr Rivero, who was 75 years old – he moved to London in the 1970s

“He would never harm anyone, he just had his routine, his life, his little bubble with his friends and me.

“He was with me for lunch on the Thursday before he died, and he was meant to come back on the Saturday. Unfortunately he never came back to my house.”

At Mr Rivero’s flat in Hornsey Road, his daughter found piles of notes he had written on scraps of paper – recipes, reminders, quotes and instructions for using his computer.

“He always wrote everything down,” she said, adding that when the police found her father’s body he had one of these notes in his jacket pocket – a list of all his passwords.

When they spent time together, Mr Rivero and his daughter played chess (he would always win), listened to Queen and stargazed with telescopes, a hobby she introduced him to in his later years.

And despite being raised Catholic, Mr Rivero embraced Buddhist and Zen philosophies, enjoying practices like meditation, which he also shared with his daughter.

“Even though it’s really tragic and difficult, those principles are really helping me,” she said.

“Right now I need that, I just could not cope without it.

“I’m going to consciously, every day develop a kind, loving heart – I don’t want what happened to define me or my memory of my dad.”

Mr Rivero was always a “delicate” man, his daughter said. He suffered from cancer and kidney problems in his later years.

“He was very simple, almost minimalist,” she said. “He wasn’t flashy – he was open-minded, gentle and friendly with everyone, but beyond all of that he was a simple person in every way.”

Mr Rivero is survived by his daughter, brother, sister and other family, many of who attended his funeral or watched it remotely from around the world.