This is not something that actually happened, although something quite similar did. As is my wont I have just changed all the names and concepts to different ones in order to protect the feelings of those involved:
There once was an attractive young woman named Jackie who had a good income and who had just graduated from college with excellent grades and recommendation letters and was living in a small apartment in Brooklyn. She heard from her friend Joseph who was a contractor in Jersey City obsessed with THE PICATRIX that there was an apartment complex off the grid in the southeastern united states where the people were extremely artistically sensitive but were given to suicide. She conceived a desire to learn more about these strange people and was able to find a hippie bus line that could take her there. She discovered that these people lived at a very, very high level of sensitivity. This sensitivity had a plus and a minus. The plus was that they were able to express their intense feelings in beautiful poetry and essays which they published in an APA (amateur press association) zine. The minus was that when something struck them as painful sometimes their only way out was suicide.
Jackie worried about how to take account of this strange apartment group given evolutionary biology. How did they come to be? She later learned that their mother (not biologically exactly) was a woman named Ilana Beverly. Ilana Beverly deliberately brought about this state of heightened sensitivity in her “children” so as to explore paths of human flourishing that were hidden from most human beings by their unsensitivity.
“How could you do that?” said Jackie and that night they all committed suicide.
She became friends with Ilana Beverly (I don’t know if it was Platonic or not — I don’t have that kind of prurient interest in this story) and discussed the pluses and minuses of raising children who skate so close to the edge. “It just doesn’t seem fair.” said Jackie.
“Great!” said Ilana Beverly. “Now you made me feel guilty.”
MORAL:If somebody can make you feel guilty, it might be because you are.