Zoning laws leave elderly Gatineau resident stuck with unsellable land

Tashi Farmilo

A small parcel of land at the corner of Chemin de la Montagne and Chemin Vanier has become the centre of a six-year zoning battle that has left an elderly Gatineau resident unable to fulfil his late wife’s final wish—or sell his own property.

The case of Réginald Regout, a retired mechanic who immigrated to Canada from Belgium in 1958, raises difficult questions about how rigid zoning regulations can obstruct legacy, goodwill, and dignity in old age.

In 2019, following the death of his wife Denise from a sudden and devastating brain illness, the couple’s land—jointly owned for decades—was divided according to her notarized will and a court-validated codicil. One portion was left to Regout. The other was bequeathed to the charitable organization Society of Saint Vincent de Paul (SSVP), part of a heartfelt plan to support their community and provide Regout with the means to sustain himself by selling his portion.

But that plan was never realized.

Although Denise’s donation qualified under Section 29.2 of Quebec’s Loi sur la protection du territoire et des activités agricoles, which permits certain land divisions by testament, the City of Gatineau rejected the morcellement (piecemeal subdivision) authorized by provincial law. City officials insisted instead on a formal lotissement—a complex, costly development process typically meant for urban subdivisions and new road creation.

The city’s refusal, despite the Superior Court’s approval of the testamentary division, effectively blocked the intended donation. Without the city’s endorsement, the gifted parcel could not be registered as a separate lot, and the SSVP—after five years in limbo—was forced to return the land in 2024.

Meanwhile, Regout has found himself in an administrative purgatory. The city’s conditions for lotissement require engineering plans, road infrastructure, and fees that could exceed tens of thousands of dollars—far beyond what a widowed octogenarian ever expected to face for what was intended to be a modest transfer of land.

“I did everything right,” Regout said. “We followed the law. We had it notarized, accepted by the court, and still, the city said no.”

The city also challenged the classification of certain ditches on the property as cours d’eau (natural waterways), invoking environmental protection rules and creating additional setbacks that further complicated subdivision. Regout commissioned three professional hydrological studies, which concluded that the waterways in question were man-made agricultural drainage ditches, originally dug decades ago. Yet the city did not accept the findings.

Two serious buyers had expressed interest in the charitable lot—one offering $100,000—money that would have directly benefitted the SSVP’s services. That opportunity, like the donation itself, has been lost.

Despite repeated attempts, Regout has been unable to sell his remaining portion of land either, since it remains entangled in the same zoning restrictions. He remains the legal owner of property he cannot use, develop, or transfer—except, perhaps, posthumously.

In response to inquiries, the Commission de protection du territoire agricole du Québec (CPTAQ) noted that no application for rezoning or alienation had been formally filed. Regout says none was needed because the will followed the explicit testamentary exception provided by law—an argument supported by provincial documents and the judgement of the Superior Court.

Municipal documents acknowledge that Gatineau’s regulations cannot override provincial or federal law. Nonetheless, city planners have insisted that a full lotissement—including street frontage requirements and formal subdivision—is the only process they will recognize, even in a testamentary context.

The dispute highlights a deeper conflict between provincial law and municipal interpretation—one with real human consequences.

“I’m tired,” Regout said. “My wife wanted to do something good. I wanted to honour that. Now it feels like they’ve made that impossible.”

He has sought help from provincial representatives, including MNA Mathieu Lacombe, and remains hopeful that the government’s long-anticipated revision of the zoning perimeter may eventually bring relief. But no changes have materialized.

What was meant to be a peaceful transition of land has turned into a bureaucratic ordeal, draining time, money, and hope. For now, the land remains in limbo—unsold, undonated, unresolved.