A serious crime, but a person who was clearly not themselves
In a Sarnia courtroom, the law paused to consider not only what a man had done, but who he was when he did it. Joseph Digregorio, found with a loaded, unlicensed handgun during a mental health intervention in 2023, received a nine-month sentence — far shorter than such offenses typically demand. The judge's measured leniency reflects an enduring tension in justice: how to weigh genuine public danger against the diminished agency of a person in crisis. The outcome is neither absolution nor indifference, but a deliberate act of judicial discretion at the intersection of public safety and human vulnerability.
- A loaded Glock 17 found in a closet during a mental health call transformed a welfare check into a criminal investigation with serious public safety implications.
- The presence of an unlicensed, chambered firearm in a residential home posed a real and documented threat to Digregorio's family, neighbors, and responding officers.
- Both the Crown and defence took the rare step of agreeing on a sentence, jointly arguing that Digregorio's mental health crisis warranted a significant departure from standard penitentiary terms.
- Justice Leszczynski imposed nine months — openly acknowledging the sentence was unusually short — balancing the gravity of the offense against the man's lack of criminal history and his compromised state of mind.
- Digregorio addressed the court with an apology and an admission that he hadn't known how to ask for help, signaling a trajectory toward accountability and recovery.
On an August afternoon in 2023, Sarnia police arrived at Joseph Digregorio's home after people close to him grew concerned about his erratic behavior. Officers believed he was experiencing psychosis, possibly drug-induced, and took him into custody under the Mental Health Act. During a search of the house, they found a loaded Glock 17 tucked in his closet — four rounds in the magazine, no firearms licence to his name.
Two weeks later, when police returned to arrest him, Digregorio resisted, adding a second charge. He ultimately pleaded guilty to both unauthorized firearm possession and resisting arrest. What followed in court was unusual: Crown and defence alike recommended the same sentence of eight and a half months, and Justice Krista Lynn Leszczynski imposed it — acknowledging openly that it fell well short of what such offenses typically demand.
The prosecutor did not minimize the danger. A loaded, unlicensed handgun in a residential home posed a genuine threat to everyone nearby. But she also argued that Digregorio had been in the grip of a mental health crisis, and that the circumstances called for leniency. The judge agreed, citing his lack of criminal history and his compromised state of mind at the time of the offense.
In his address to the court, Digregorio apologized and admitted he hadn't known how to reach out for help when he needed it most. His lawyer noted he is doing significantly better now. The nine-month sentence is not an erasure of what happened, but a carefully weighed response to who he was in that moment — a man in crisis, not a calculating offender.
Joseph Digregorio was 39 years old when Sarnia police arrived at his home on an August afternoon in 2023, called by people worried he was behaving strangely. The officers who showed up believed he was under the influence of drugs, possibly experiencing psychosis. They took him into custody under the Mental Health Act. While they were there, searching the house, they found a loaded Glock 17 nine-millimetre pistol tucked away in his closet, four rounds already in the magazine. Digregorio had no firearms licence. He had no legal right to possess any gun at all.
Two weeks later, when police came back to arrest him, he resisted. That resistance became a second charge. In court, Digregorio pleaded guilty to both counts—unauthorized possession of a firearm and resisting arrest. The Crown prosecutor and his own lawyer both recommended the same sentence: eight and a half months in jail. The judge, Justice Krista Lynn Leszczynski, imposed exactly that.
What made this case unusual was not the crime itself but the circumstances surrounding it. Illegal handgun possession typically draws much longer sentences, often penitentiary time, even for first-time offenders. The Crown prosecutor, Meaghan Jones, acknowledged the gravity of what Digregorio had done. A man with no licence, no authorization, no business owning a firearm had kept a loaded gun in his home. That posed a serious threat to his family, to his neighbours, to anyone who might have walked past his house. The risk was real and documented.
But Jones also told the judge something else: this was a special case. Digregorio was clearly not himself when he committed the offence. He was in the grip of a mental health crisis. The prosecutor and the defence lawyer both argued that while the crime was serious, the circumstances warranted leniency. Justice Leszczynski agreed. She noted from the bench that this sentence was far shorter than what such cases typically receive, a deliberate balance struck between the seriousness of the act and the state of the person who committed it.
Digregorio addressed the court. He apologized for his behaviour and his actions. He said he didn't know how to ask for help back then, didn't know how to reach out. But he wanted to move forward now. His lawyer said he was struggling with his mental health at the time of the offence but is doing much better now. The judge acknowledged his insight and his contrition. She also made clear that she understood the weight of what had happened—that this was, in every sense, a serious case.
The sentence stands at nine months. It is a mercy, measured and conditional, granted not because the crime was minor but because the person who committed it was, at that moment, in crisis. Whether that balance holds as Digregorio serves his time and moves toward whatever comes next remains to be seen.
Notable Quotes
Because it's far more common that this type of offence attracts much lengthier sentences, often a penitentiary sentence, even for a first offender like yourself.— Justice Krista Lynn Leszczynski
Mr. Digregorio had no legal authorization to have it and no business possessing it, but did so anyways and so posed a very serious risk to the safety of his family, his neighbours, to anybody who happened to be walking by his house.— Assistant Crown attorney Meaghan Jones
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why did the judge go so light on this? A loaded gun in the house is a loaded gun in the house.
True. But the judge wasn't ignoring that. She was saying: yes, this is serious, and yes, normally you'd see prison time. But this man was having a mental health crisis when he did it. First offence. No history of violence. That changes the calculation.
So mental illness is a get-out-of-jail card?
Not a card. A factor. The Crown prosecutor herself argued for leniency. She said he was clearly not himself. The question becomes: what does justice look like when someone commits a serious crime while they're in acute distress?
Did he know the gun was dangerous?
He knew he wasn't allowed to have it. That's clear. But whether he understood the full weight of keeping a loaded weapon in a closet while experiencing psychosis—that's harder to say. The judge seemed to think his lack of understanding at the time mattered.
What happens now?
He serves nine months. His lawyer says he's doing better now, getting help. The real test is what happens when he gets out—whether he stays connected to mental health support, whether he stays away from weapons.