By JOSEPH FITZGERALD

BURRILLVILLE — They lived in the same town and even worked for the same state agency, but Kenneth Lussier and Evelyn (Lyn) Parenteau were perfect strangers until their paths crossed one icy morning earlier this week.

And lucky for Parenteau that they did.
On the morning of Tuesday, Feb. 19, Lussier, a correctional officer with the Rhode Department of Corrections, was heading to work along Old Victory Highway when the car he was driving behind hit a patch of black ice and skidded off the side of the road. The car slammed into a tree and rolled onto its side down an embankment, where it came to a rest in a small swamp.
When Lussier pulled over and ran down the embankment, his heart skipped a beat: The engine of the disabled vehicle was on fire and a woman — Parenteau — was trapped inside.
"The car landed passenger side down, so the driver's side was up in the air," Lussier said. "The engine was on fire and I was trying to put it out with water from the swamp, but it didn't help."
Lussier, with the help of a nearby resident who had come outside with a fire extinguisher, tried to smash the windshield, but to no avail. "She didn't seem to realize the engine was on fire. I didn't say anything because I didn't want her to panic," he said.
"I tried to stay as calm as possible because I knew someone was there trying to help," Parenteau said. "I didn't know the engine was on fire, but when I heard the urgency in his voice I knew something was wrong and I started to get a little nervous."
Lussier then decided to use his bare hands to see if he could pry open the car's sunroof. "It worked," he said. "I don't know how it worked, but it did. The whole thing came off. The frame and everything."
With Lussier's help, Parenteau was able to crawl through the sunroof and clamber up the embankment. She was badly shaken, but uninjured save for a sore neck.
As they stood looking down at the burning car, Parenteau noticed Lussier's military style boots and gray uniform pants. Although she didn't realize it then, the good Samaritan that rescued her would turn out to be a colleague with the Rhode Island Department of Corrections, where she also works as a an implementation aid in another division of the agency.
But Parenteau, who was in a shock from the accident, didn't  make the connection at the scene. The police and paramedics had arrived, she needed to be checked out for injuries and Lussier was late for work. So amidst the commotion they parted ways without really having said that much to each other.
When Parenteau called her boss, Art Fillo, and told him about the accident, she mentioned the man who rescued her and described his military-style boots and gray colored pants that seemed to resemble those worn by correctional officers.
Fillo called RIDOC Shift Commander Robert Clancy and asked him if he knew anything about the accident involving Parenteau, and sure enough, he did — Clancy had just relieved the call from Lussier saying he would be late for work because he had to stop and help someone in an accident.
They put two and two together and the mystery was solved.
One of the first things Parenteau did when she returned to work was to call Lussier and thank him.
Lussier and Parenteau reunited Thursday at a ceremony commending Lussier for his act of bravery.
"While performing their daily duties, our officers act with courage, providing for public safety of their fellow staff, visitors and inmates under their supervision," Corrections Director Ashbel T. Wall said at the ceremony. "Officer Lussier's actions Tuesday morning exemplify the qualities we seek in our staff — competence, composure, professionalism and excellent judgment."
Lussier, a correctional officer for the past five years and a Glendale resident for the past 18, said he did what anyone would have done if they were in the same situation.
"I think I was able to react a little faster because as a correctional officer we make split-second decisions every day," he said. "There's no time to think, you just rely on your training and react to the situation."
"It's gratifying to know there are people out there like Ken and the neighbors who came outside to help me," Parenteau said. "They are special people and I am deeply thankful."