Hello, campers, grab your marshmallows and gather around the true crime campfire.

We're your camp counselors. I'm Katie. And I'm Whitney.

And we're here to tell you a true story that is way stranger than fiction.

We're roasting murderers and marshmallows around the true crime campfire.

Mark Twain, always a good man for a quote, said about getting old, age is an issue of mind over matter.

If you don't mind, it doesn't matter.

There is generally a broad, unspoken societal agreement over what the elderly are supposed to be like, the shape their lives are supposed to have.

There are always people who don't fit into this preconception, of course.

I'm sure plenty of you have encountered some weird and wild senior citizens,

but probably not as wild as the people in this week's story,

who turned their lives into their own personal mashup of grumpy old men and Oceans 11. This is Golden Years,

the Hatton Garden Heist. So, campers, for this one, we're starting in the town of Darkford Kent on the outskirts of London, May 19, 2015.

76-year-old Brian Reeder was staying close to the phone.

He was expecting an important call, one that could change his life.

He was an old man with a shock of white hair that he arranged carefully

to disguise a receding hairline. Just because you're old doesn't mean you can't be vain.

Brian liked nice, expensive clothes. He wore tasseled brown leather shoes, stripy socks, and

colorful silk scarves. He looked frail. He was frail. A few years ago, he'd been diagnosed with prostate

cancer and neutropenia, which made him susceptible to infection. Not long after that, he'd climbed

a tree to cut a branch and fallen out, fracturing his neck. The physical ills were the least of it,

though. His wife Lynn had died six years before,

and everything had seemed gray after that. There was really only one thing that could still bring

...