He didn’t know how to go about telling the others that there would be no way to send Zod back to where he belonged. He had struggled with the possibilities, going over each option in his head and finally attempting to open something that refused to be opened. Not a crack, nor a nudge or a spark of recognition. The Phantom Zone uttered no replies to his prodding and after days of testing his ideas, his theories, Jor-El was forced to back down and accept defeat.
They couldn’t put somebody back into a place that didn’t exist. Where they were now, held no Phantom Zone; it held no spark from the prison that needed to be accessed if only for the safety of his family and the city that was threatened. Zod was a danger to everything that he came into contact with, and Jor-El was not ready to stand back and watch him do harm to the boy or to Kara, to his son, to either of them.
One way or another, he would be stopped dead in his tracks. If they had to rip him limb from limb, so be it. They’d rip him limb from limb and call it a day. They would tear him apart and Zod would be no more. Nobody would be kneeling and his orders would wither and die a reluctant death. Nobody needed Zod. Nobody wanted him.
He flew over the city, trying to come up with a way to solve the problems that they were expecting him to solve. As Kal-El's father and Kara’s uncle, they looked to him for answers, and having to tell them that he had none would be almost unbearable. He could not do it. His pride and his devotion to his family would not allow it. Giving up was not an option placed before him.
His eyes drew in on the objects, the buildings and the people below him, and it was his vision that alerted him to the woman on the roof. He was able to hear her vividly and slowing his speed, Jor-El curiously landed a respectful distance away from her.