He had a smile and presence that could light up a room
On a Saturday morning off the coast of Western Australia, the sea claimed the life of Steven Mattaboni, a 38-year-old father of two, while he spearfished at Horseshoe Reef near Rottnest Island. A four-meter shark attacked him just twenty meters from his own boat, and though his friends pulled him from the water with urgency and love, the injuries were beyond saving. His death joins a long human reckoning with the ocean — a place we are drawn to not despite its indifference, but somehow because of it — and leaves behind a young family and a community searching for how to hold grief alongside the life that continues.
- A father of two infant daughters was fatally bitten on the lower leg by a four-meter shark while spearfishing alone in open water, just a kilometer from shore.
- His friends, witnessing the attack, pulled him from the ocean and raced him to land — an act of desperate loyalty that could not outrun the severity of his wounds.
- Emergency responders arrived to find nothing left to save, and a wife learned her husband would not return home to their four-month-old and nearly three-year-old daughters.
- Tributes from his football club and community painted a portrait of a man whose warmth and generosity were felt immediately by everyone around him.
- Spearfishing safety advocates are now drawing attention to the gap between competition diving — with safety boats and drone surveillance — and the far more vulnerable reality of recreational solo dives.
Steven Mattaboni was spearfishing with friends at Horseshoe Reef, about a kilometer off Rottnest Island near Perth, when a four-meter shark attacked him on a Saturday morning. He was twenty meters from his boat. The shark bit his lower leg. His friends pulled him from the water and brought him to shore as fast as they could, but emergency services could not revive him. He was 38 years old.
His wife Shirene released a statement that tried to hold the full weight of who he had been — an avid fisherman who lived for the ocean, a fiercely loyal and generous man, and above all, an incredible father to their two daughters, one nearly three years old and the other just four months. "The world has lost a truly one-of-a-kind gentleman," she wrote, "and our daughters have lost an incredible father far too soon."
The Kingsley Amateur Football Club, where Mattaboni had played in Perth's northern suburbs, remembered him as someone whose smile and presence could light up any room. Those who knew him described a warmth that was immediate and unguarded.
Graham Henderson of the Australian Underwater Federation acknowledged the sport's inherent dangers while pointing to a meaningful gap in safety: organized competitions use safety boats and drones to spot sharks from above, but recreational divers operate without that infrastructure. "When people are doing it recreationally," he said, "that is probably when they are most vulnerable." Western Australia's police minister also acknowledged the friends and first responders who fought for Mattaboni's life, even as the outcome had already been decided by the sea.
Steven Mattaboni was twenty meters from his boat when the shark found him. It was Saturday morning, around ten o'clock, and he was spearfishing with friends about a kilometer offshore at Horseshoe Reef, northwest of Rottnest Island near Perth. The shark—four meters long—attacked him in the water, biting his lower leg in what police would later describe as horrific. His friends pulled him from the ocean and rushed him back to shore, but by the time emergency services arrived, there was nothing they could do. The 38-year-old father of two was dead.
Shirene Mattaboni learned that her husband would not be coming home. In a statement released after his death, she tried to hold the shape of who he had been. He was an incredible father to their two daughters—one turning three next month, the other just four months old. He was an avid fisherman, she said, someone who lived and breathed the ocean. He was fiercely loyal, endlessly generous, the kind of man who would give away his own shirt if someone needed it. "The world has lost a truly one-of-a-kind gentleman," she wrote, "and our daughters have lost an incredible father far too soon." Her family's hearts, she said, were irrevocably broken.
The tributes came quickly. The Kingsley Amateur Football Club, where Mattaboni had played in Perth's northern suburbs, remembered him as one of the most genuine people they had known. "He had a smile and presence that could light up a room," the club wrote online. "He will be remembered fondly by all who had the privilege of knowing him." Those who knew him spoke of a man whose warmth was immediate and unguarded, someone who made people feel seen.
Graham Henderson, president of the Australian Underwater Federation, the peak body for spearfishing in the country, expressed his sorrow to the ABC. He acknowledged what everyone in the sport already knows: spearfishing carries inherent danger. But there are ways to manage that risk. Organized competitions deploy safety boats and often use drones to watch for sharks from above. The difference, Henderson noted, lies in how people fish when they're not competing. "When people are doing it recreationally," he said, "that is probably when they are most vulnerable." Without the formal safety infrastructure, without the boats and the spotters, divers like Mattaboni operate in a different calculus of risk.
Western Australia's police minister, Reece Whitby, took time on Saturday to acknowledge the friends who had tried to save him and the first responders who had attempted to revive him. There was nothing more they could have done, but the effort itself mattered—the instinct to fight for someone's life, even when the ocean had already decided otherwise. The shark attack at Horseshoe Reef had claimed a life, shattered a family, and left a community asking the questions that always follow: How do we live with danger? How do we honor those we lose to it?
Notable Quotes
Steven was a devoted father to our two beautiful daughters... The world has lost a truly one-of-a-kind gentleman, and our daughters have lost an incredible father far too soon.— Shirene Mattaboni, his wife
When people are doing it recreationally, that is probably when they are most vulnerable.— Graham Henderson, president of the Australian Underwater Federation
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
What made Mattaboni's death resonate so widely in Perth?
He wasn't a stranger to risk—he was a serious fisherman who understood the ocean. But he was also someone people genuinely loved. The football club, his wife, the people who knew him—they all described the same thing: a man with real warmth, real presence. That matters when tragedy strikes.
His wife mentioned he "lived and breathed the ocean." Does that change how we understand what happened?
It complicates it. He wasn't reckless or naive. He was doing something he loved, something he was skilled at, with friends nearby. And it still happened. That's what makes it so difficult—there's no obvious mistake to point to, no negligence to blame.
The federation president mentioned safety protocols in competitions. Why the difference?
Organized events have infrastructure: boats watching, drones overhead, people trained to respond. When you're fishing recreationally, it's just you and your friends. You're more alone out there, even if you're not actually alone.
What does a four-month-old daughter lose in a moment like this?
Everything her father would have been. The ordinary things—teaching her to swim, showing her the ocean he loved, being there for the moments that define a childhood. His wife had to say goodbye to all of that for both their daughters.
Does this change how people will think about spearfishing?
It will for some. Others will see it as the price of doing something they love. The ocean doesn't negotiate. But conversations about safety—about what precautions matter, about when the risk becomes too much—those will happen now.