The day after Nino Rivera was killed, his young nieces and nephews were playing in a swimming pool when they looked up and saw their uncle sitting nearby.
They told their grandmother that Nino was there with them. The sight frightened her so much that she wanted to leave. But maybe the kids weren’t afraid. Their uncle had always watched over them. Why would he stop now?
Nino’s pit bull appeared to feel his presence, too. When his girlfriend later took the dog to the cemetery and opened the car door, the dog somehow knew where to go. He ran directly to Nino’s grave, cried and settled on top of it.
“I don’t know how the dogs will feel when the owner is not there, because that dog used to cry and cry for him,” said Aurora Soto, who raised Nino from the time he was 8 months old.
For those closest to Nino, the stories are reminders of the powerful bonds he formed during his short life, and of the feeling that he lingered to keep watch over those who loved him.
Nino Rivera, 23, was shot and killed June 25, 2017, in the 500 block of East Allegheny Avenue in Philadelphia.
He grew up in North Philadelphia with Aurora, who became his mother in every way that mattered after a court placed him in her care. As a boy, he loved going to the movies with her. As he got older, he spent more time with his girlfriend and his close friends though he never stopped calling Aurora to say, “Mom, I love you.”
He made sure she never had to wonder how he felt.
“If you see me 10 times, 10 times he’ll give me a kiss and a hug,” Aurora said.
At about 18, as soon as he was old enough to get a tattoo, Nino had Aurora’s name inked on his arm. Some of his biological siblings asked why he had chosen the name of the woman who raised him instead of his birth mother’s. Aurora never heard his answer, but she did not need to. His affection was written not only on his arm, but into the rhythms of their everyday life.
Nino called throughout the day to check on her. He knew she had difficulty seeing in the rain, so when the weather turned bad, he would ask whether she needed a ride.
“He was so helpful with me, and he would call me all day, every day: ‘Mom, how you doing?’” Aurora said.
That attentiveness extended well beyond his mother. Nino was especially close to his sisters and to his nieces and nephews, playing with them, swimming with them and making videos together. He also kept an eye on other children in the neighborhood.
“He used to be on the lookout for all the kids,” Aurora said.
If Nino called his sister and learned that the children were outside, he would come by to check on them. Neighbors noticed his kindness and trusted him with their children. Aurora remembered him as polite and respectful.
“Everybody around here used to adore him because he used to care for everybody’s kids,” she said.
Nino also had plans for his own future. He loved cars and was studying auto mechanics at Lincoln Technical Institute. After spending the day in school, he delivered food in the evenings. He did not have much time left for hanging around, but Aurora said hard work simply came naturally to him.
Shortly before his death, Aurora’s house was finally finished. Nino was thrilled. He brought one of his brothers over and proudly led him through every room. He also helped Aurora choose furniture.
The house was ready during the same week Nino was killed.
On the night of his death, he had asked Aurora to make one of his favorite meals, rice and beans with pork chops. Cooking that meal afterward became too painful for her. The house itself filled with memories she could no longer bear, and she eventually left Philadelphia for New Jersey.
Nino was standing on a corner talking with his brothers and preparing to go home to his own apartment when he was shot, Aurora said. His case is still unsolved.
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