Collecting known patients wasn't as difficult as one might surmise.  A confidential notice was sent to all registered psychiatrists alerting them of a potential problem.  The letter, however, eluded to the possibility of a national security leak within the literature, rather than its true contents, thus entrusting the doctors to forward the materials and information unexamined, without argument.  My predecessor was responsible for collecting many of the historical artifacts we have here at the asylum, and she even managed to acquire one of the original notices, as seen here (edited for security reasons).

Any books sent to the department were immediately destroyed.  The patients, however, posed a more difficult predicament.  They needed to be collected and quarantined against their will.  The situation was originally handled in a professional manner, with an explanation to the families that their loved one suffered from a unique condition that needed special attention. Unfortunately, many of the families were less than cooperative.  There was a brief period where the patients were taken by force, like common criminals, leaving the relatives to seek information that could not be released.  Finally, there seemed to be little choice but to make the patients disappear.

As far as I know, this is how the situation has since been resolved, even to this day.  Many of the young and the old that seemed to simply vanish from their families and homes were actually placed here in the asylum's care.  Believe me, I understand how horrific this sounds.  Knowing not the whereabouts of a loved one is perhaps the cruelest chapter that life can pen.  Yet there are times when terrible actions are necessary for tremendous triumphs.  This promise I can make - the end of such practices may be in sight.