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 I received the following letter this morning: Doc, I am so sorry that I had to write this. I told Casey he wasn't ready to go it alone after all these years, but you know how fucking crazy he was. I got his text message and GPS signal but by the time I got to Los Santos it was too late.  I found him downtown, dead by the side of the road outside one of the hospitals. His medication bottle was empty. One of the last things he did was draw a Voorish Sign in the dust with his finger. He'd only been in town two days. I guess when you lead a life as batshit as his you burn out eventually. I can't believe it was finally his diabetes that took him down and not the punk rock life - or any of those missions over the past three years. But I guess that's why he was one of your best agents. He said they can't drive you crazy if you're already crazy to begin with, He used to say he didn't care how he died, because as far as he was concerned he'd beat the odds so man...

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Five years later