There is an unfinished wooden dollhouse sitting in the attic of Janna Volz’s mother’s house that her father made for her 8th birthday.
It has sat unvarnished for almost two decades, gathering dust. But this year, for her 26th birthday, she had planned to finally paint it with her father, now that he was sober. He had found stability following years of hardship and homelessness. They just needed to set a date.
But on a Monday evening in March, as Jason Volz, 54, stood on the platform at a subway station not far from his home, he was pushed to his death. The man that police charged with murder, Carlton McPherson, had severe mental illness and bounced around the city’s shelter system, according to his family.
For the city, the killing marked another calamity to be quickly absorbed into the city’s debate over safety on the subway. But for those who knew him, Mr. Volz’s death was a blow made all the more painful because of the difficulties he had already survived.
Mr. Volz had been homeless until recently and battled addiction for most of his daughter’s life, she said. He was largely absent from when she was 3 years old until she turned 18. But recently, they had reconnected.
For Ms. Volz, last week marked the sudden end to a life her father was just getting a handle on.
“I just wish he could live out his sobriety and the clarity he had for longer,” Ms. Volz said.
Mr. Volz grew up in Forest Hills, Queens, with his mother. He met Ms. Volz’s mother, Anna Torres, in East Hampton, and they were married in 1998, the same year Janna was born.
Mr. Volz was a talented woodworker, Ms. Torres said. He was someone who could take a piece of junk furniture and turn it into a piece of art. She said her daughter had inherited that sense of creativity.
But soon after Ms. Volz was born, her father’s addiction started to spiral out of control. The couple separated, and later divorced. Ms. Torres stayed on Long Island and Mr. Volz moved back to Queens to live with his mother, Ms. Volz said.
He refused to be around his daughter unless he was sober, Ms. Torres said, which meant that for nearly 15 years, they rarely heard from him.
“He did struggle, but he didn’t give up, which was always commendable,” Ms. Torres said. “I was proud of him for that.”
When his daughter was a teenager, and living in New Rochelle with her mother, she became mired in her own troubles. Her half brother, aged 9, died in 2013. A grandfather-figure, Bill, died soon after, and then her paternal grandmother died the next year. During that period of grief, Janna Volz struggled with her mental health.
She began speaking often to her paternal grandfather, and after turning 18 and realizing she needed a change, she moved to Florida for three months to live with him while she recovered.
It was there that she began talking with her father every Wednesday on the phone, catching up on the roughly 15 years they had spent apart. Her grandfather, who had been absent at times during Mr. Volz’s childhood, had encouraged the two to start talking.
It was remarkable, Ms. Volz said, how another person could relate to exactly what she was feeling. They shared similar ideas and insights. She also quickly learned that her father was an incredible listener. She began referring to herself as “J” to emphasize her closeness to her father, Jason.
Ms. Volz said that as a child she never felt angry about her father’s absence. She knew he had her best intentions at heart. Her grandmother would remind him about important dates like birthdays. Sometimes when he sent her cards, he would misspell her name as “Jenna.” But she knew he was trying.
“I never held resentment,” she said. “And I’m grateful that I never did because I got to feel his true love.”
Ms. Volz moved back to New Rochelle and worked on getting a cosmetology license before switching career paths and working in security. Mr. Volz became homeless during the Covid-19 pandemic and lived in a city shelter on Randall’s Island.
For his 51st birthday, in May 2020, Ms. Volz made him a cheesecake and brought it to Randall’s Island for them to celebrate together. They did a crossword and she gave him new shoes as a birthday present.
“He was chipper — if he wasn’t chipper, he didn’t want to talk to me,” Ms. Volz said. “He wanted to keep that sadness away. He didn’t take it out on people.”
Later, he moved into the Watson Hotel in Hell’s Kitchen, which had been converted into a homeless shelter during the pandemic. Just after he moved in, he called Ms. Volz to tell her that she had to come see the view. There was also a skatepark nearby that he wanted to show her, she said.
Ms. Volz said that during her phone calls with her father, she could hear him on the other end of the phone, showing her photo to his friends or anyone nearby. She knew that she could harbor resentment toward her father, who at that time was still struggling with the same demons that had kept them apart for so many years, but she didn’t.
“There’s layers to everybody, and everything is in due time,” she said. “I never gave up.”
Eventually, Mr. Volz entered the Su Casa residential treatment center on the Lower East Side and finally managed to get sober.
He got a job at Amazon, but was injured and quit. He didn’t want to have to take painkillers and risk the progress he had made, Ms. Volz said. So he found odd jobs working for friends building cabinets and painting apartments.
Mr. Volz found an apartment in the Bronx in October, once he became stable enough to rent his own place. As he got his life on track, Ms. Volz was still struggling with what she said was unresolved grief.
She had gone through a rough spell recently. She had planned to come see her father’s new place and celebrate his graduation from his treatment program, but they had a fight. Not a big one, just a classic “father-daughter spat,” she said. He didn’t like her tone on the phone. She said neither wanted to admit they were wrong. She never made it over.
Something Ms. Volz and her father both understood is that everyone is fighting their own battles. Ms. Volz said that her father would not have looked down on the man who pushed him. He would never have walked past someone struggling and scoffed, she said, adding that Mr. McPherson deserved some understanding.
“That man has gone through things and I really couldn’t imagine taking my pain and putting it on somebody like that, but I really don’t know where that person has been,” Ms. Volz said. “I think everyone should be held responsible for their actions, but with grace.”
After their fight, Mr. Volz had been texting his daughter about making plans for her birthday. He also had a reason to celebrate: He had been sober for over a year, his daughter said.
She thought painting the dollhouse might be a good way to get their relationship back on track. Just the two of them, doing something they both loved.
Last Tuesday, after she got the call her father had been killed, the frustration she felt toward him disappeared.
“There was no time for that,” she said.
