Orestes Lorenzo

Death comes for a hero

BY DAVID OVALLE

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The man who saved Rogeline Blanc's life was himself in need of saving.

On a muggy summer night in 2002, Rogeline was struck by lightning as she walked home from the library.

The teenager has no memory of the accident. But she does remember waking from a three-day coma, the imprint of her silver necklace burned into her chest, and finding North Miami Beach police officer Orestes Lorenzo at her side.

It was Lorenzo who had revived her with CPR.

Last week -- almost two years to the day when he brought her back from the brink of death -- Lorenzo was critically injured in a car wreck in Pembroke Pines while driving home from work.

Late Friday, Lorenzo was taken off life support. He died surrounded by family and friends.

For the past week, it had been Rogeline, now 16, and her family beside Lorenzo's bed at Hollywood's Memorial Regional Hospital.

''It hurt. I cried for him,'' Rogeline said. ``I prayed for him.''

Lorenzo, 40, was a popular figure in North Miami Beach, a former president of the police union and a jokester with a penchant for impersonations. He was an eight-year veteran who became a cop after working several years in the airline industry.

As a detective, he handled a variety of cases, from homicides to armed robberies. He rarely worked sexual crimes or those involving children -- it hit too close to home.

See, Lorenzo -- known around the department as ''Oreo'' -- was best known for his absolute devotion to his three daughters, ages 5, 12 and 14. Every day, fellow detectives in the investigations unit could hear him talking to his daughters on the phone as they left school.

On his right arm were three tattoos of the Flintstones' character Pebbles. Each represented one of his girls.

''You can't talk to Oreo for 10 minutes without him mentioning his daughters, or his family,'' said North Miami Beach Detective Nelson Reyes.

Lorenzo told people that it was images of his daughters that flashed through his mind that summer night two years ago when he pulled up to Rogeline's North Miami Beach home and saw her sprawled on the pavement.

It was July 17, 2002, and Rogeline had been walking home from the library around 9 p.m.

Rogeline, then 14, had been working on a book report. She wanted to get home in time for American Idol.

The sky was thick with clouds. She walked past a tall palm tree just yards from her front door.

Suddenly, the tree exploded in a flash of electricity. Lightning -- drawn to the silver chain draped around her neck -- coursed through Rogeline's body, and she flew 10 feet before crumpling to the ground.

A passerby called police, and after at least 30 minutes, Lorenzo pulled up to a ''chaotic scene,'' he wrote in his report.

He frantically applied CPR -- and after two minutes, Rogeline awoke, her lungs lurching for air.

Lorenzo cheered. Paramedics took Rogeline to Parkway Regional Medical Center with severe burns to her body.

''Rarely do you survive that. It was a miracle,'' said Catherine Romero, a physician who worked at Parkway at the time. ``And not a lot of officers know CPR.''

Eventually, Rogeline's family packed the tattered and singed clothes she had worn that night in a box and put it in the closet.

Rogeline, a quiet girl with an electric smile who wants to run a day-care center one day, began at North Miami Beach Senior High.

Lorenzo was promoted to the detective bureau on the second floor, trading in his patrol uniform for dress shirts and ties.

Once, Lorenzo walked into the smoothie joint where Rogeline's mother, Almirose Blanc, worked.

''That's my hero! That's my hero!'' she yelled to her co-workers.

''No, no,'' Lorenzo told her. ``You have to thank God.''

The months melted away and the officer lost touch with Rogeline's family.

Then last weekend, a community relations worker with the police department knocked on the Blanc family's door to deliver startling news.

On July 2, Lorenzo had been driving home from work about 11:30 p.m. He was just days away from leaving on a cruise, a vacation with his wife, daughters and extended family.

About five blocks from his home in Pembroke Pines, a car making a left turn collided with Lorenzo's unmarked police Crown Victoria.

The detective's car went airborne and wrapped around a tree. His seat belt snapped and Lorenzo was ejected, hitting his head on the pavement.

Lorenzo was put on life support at Memorial Regional Hospital. Scores of somber family members and cops from various agencies have crowded the waiting rooms to hope, to pray.

And alongside them was Rogeline's family.

''We didn't even know how she found out,'' Lorenzo's brother-in-law, Michael Rodriguez, said, grasping for words. ``I didn't know who she was. We were all surprised and happy for the family. We're grateful.''

Rogeline's father bawled when he saw Lorenzo. On one of several visits, the family brought their pastor along to pray.

But as the week progressed, it became apparent Lorenzo was not going to have the second chance Rogeline had.

Lorenzo's injuries were too severe. His body was shutting down.

He was put on dialysis to compensate for failing kidneys. Tests showed no brain activity. On Friday night, his family made the decision to let him go.

''After God, he is my hero, '' said Almirose Blanc. ``All the time, I close my eyes and I see him.''