White Vans round up homeless at night, and trick them during the day. They are killed, organs harvested, and cremated in mobile crematoriums called smokies. There is a big money to be made in selling the organs. Can get like 40k for a liver. Not to mention keeping another collapse like 2008 at bay, which would create many more homeless. There are lots of report and/or evidence this is happening in big cities all over America.

http://allnewspipeline.com/Homeless_Disappearing_White_Vans.php

REPORTS OF THE HOMELESS DISAPPEARING

What is left is eyewitness accounts much like the reader email shown above and random accounts from other homeless individuals, such as the one found at Reddit from 2014, where someone claiming to be  a homeless man says he uses the libary to access the  Internet describes the disappearance of those he was familiar with - Key quotes shown below:

Martin, a small, quiet man disappeared last week. He usually sat near the bottom of town, behind the train station – with a large bottle of cider and a battered coat, dozing off as people walked past him and chucked him a few pennies. Of course, people don’t notice when we disappear. I mean, who honestly knows the names of anyone homeless in their city? And furthermore, who would care if they left? It might even save you some change.I was walking past Martin’s usual spot when I noticed he wasn’t there. His coat, and his hat which he left turned up as a makeshift pot for change however was. Of course I could have gone to the police, but they don’t care about us.

Often people you know will up and leave without saying anything, moving on to another city quietly, but not without their belongings. I assumed he’d wandered off somewhere and passed out, but over the next week he never returned. His hat and coat were stolen at some point, and I never saw him again. I assumed the worst, a drunken fall into the river. At least, that was the worst I could think of at the time. I hoped he’d moved on to a new city, perhaps reconnected with family and had a home, but I knew that was just reckless optimism.

Yesterday, a friend of mine – Annie – disappeared. We were close, me and Annie. She was late into her fifties, and we’d often share beers, or a bag of dope to kill the cold nights, telling stories of our past lives of just sitting in silence, passing a can between us as darkness fell. It was Tuesday morning, and hungover I decided to slowly trudge to her usual spot. I expected to see a shock of red hair but instead all I found was her coat, and her dog. Her dog was her eternal companion. He was a mangy mutt, always shivering and barking but she loved him as only an owner can. Apart from me I think he was her only friend. I’d seen her refuse a bed at the night shelter when they told her he couldn’t come in and so I knew something was wrong.

She’d never leave without her dog. Puzzled, I bent over and went to stroke him, talking softly so he knew it was me – when he leaped at me. Snarling, baring teeth he pulled on his lead and snapped. His haunches were raised and he had this ferocious look in his eye. Something had terrified him, he was no longer a friendly, yapping dog but had reverted to his animal state. He growled low as I backed away, his tiny hind legs shivering. If her dog was still tied up, then I thought she’d be about.