Blair Witch- Cazale's Mind Deteriorates

''Cazale sent me this,” I said, holding up the journal. ''A diary he'd been keeping. I wanted you —"
''This is what you mean, right?" Yamana interrupted. He was studying one page of Cazale s chart intently. "Dementia."
"That's right," Juarez said. "You wanted an explanation for his actions. Detective? There it is."
"I guess so," Yamana said thoughtfully. He licked his index finger and turned a page on the chart. "He’s been pretty sick for a long time."
"Sick?" Juarez shook his head. "He's dying."
"Yeah," Yamana said. "What a way to go."
I'd wondered what had prompted Dominick Cazale to break his silence of sixty years. Now I knew; he wanted to make peace with the past.
"A journal, huh? I'm surprised he had the mental wherewithal to write anything down," Juarez said.
"It falls apart at the end," I admitted. "And there are things in there that are a little difficult to swallow."
Yamana held out his hand. "All right, give it here."
He took the journal. I took the folder.
"Confusion on Dominick's part is understandable," Juarez said.
"That's the thing about dementia. You mix up pieces of the past: things that happened and didn't happen, things you dreamed about.
That's what was going on with Dominick."
...

Yamana snorted and handed me back the journal. 'This is all that witch crap again. And it makes even less sense than that TV show
we watched.” He eyed me suspiciously. 'Tell me the truth. You don’t believe any of this stuff— do you?”
I thought about that a moment.
That I, of everyone he knew, might believe what Cazale had written was no doubt why he had sent me the journal. That Dominick had been living in a dream world was undeniable, however: his chart was proof of that.
Joe had died in 1940. Dominick had married the girl he’d dreamed of all those years, Mary Kathleen Shaughnessy. As for the rest of it . . . The writing on the walls of Rustin Parr’s house was certainly real.
As was the copy of the article from the Washington Post in my back pocket.
And I’d seen the writing on Cazale’s arm . . . hadn’t I?

Blair Witch: The Secret Confessions of Rustin Parr, chapter 17