Jason C. Woodruff, a Navy vet, served as an engineer with the Jacksonville Fire and Rescue Department from 2013 until his death in 2024. He was proudly assigned to Station 19, “The Night Train,” in Arlington, one of the city’s busiest firehouses and the place he called home for his entire career. His presence defined the station and those who worked beside him.

Jason died at home from glioblastoma, an aggressive brain cancer linked to prolonged occupational exposure. His death was the result of years of exposure to toxic PFAS chemicals found in smoke, flames, off-gassing, firefighting gear, and uniforms, as well as environmental hazards such as mold that was in his firehouse for years. Jason paid the ultimate price tragically for a job he loved and a call he answered without hesitation.

Jason will be remembered as a man of faith, unwavering integrity, sharp intellect, disarming wit, Jeopardy-winning facts, and $20 words. He possessed a rare balance of compassion and controlled aggression, qualities that made him a trusted mentor, a steady presence, and a firefighter others wanted beside them on their hardest days. Jason didn’t just listen; he showed up. He offered not only an ear, but a shoulder to friends, coworkers, and patients alike. He cared deeply about character and the content of one’s heart, nothing more and nothing less.

To many, “Uncle Woody” was a legend, a fireman’s fireman, respected not for volume but for substance, not for ego but for example. If you were fortunate enough to call Jason a friend, you were blessed, because his loyalty ran deep and his kindness was genuine.

Above all else, Jason was an extraordinary husband and father. His greatest pride and purpose was his family—his wife of 22 years, Jennifer, and their sons, Jacob, Lukas, and Noah Lea. They were his treasure, the center of every decision he made, and the only thing he ever truly wanted to protect and provide for. Jason adored his boys and was deeply intentional in raising them to become honorable men of integrity, courage, and compassion. Whether camping under the stars, surfing the waves, or sitting side by side video gaming, moments filled with laughter and connection. Jason found joy in the simple, sacred moments of being present with his family. He delighted in who his sons were becoming and looked forward with excitement to the men they would grow into.

The deepest heartbreak of his passing is not only that his life was cut short, but that he was robbed of watching that future unfold, a future he had poured his whole heart into shaping.