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

Wear 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, or roasting

murderers and marshmallows around the true crime campfire.

There's a phenomenon in psychology called de-centering.

Basically, it means understanding that you're viewing the world through your own little

perceptual filters, and beginning to wrap your head around the fact that you are not

in fact the center of the universe, the main character in the movie of the world.

This is important stuff.

Without it, people tend to be, at best, selfish A-holes and at worst, well, we're about

to find out.

Join us for the story of one of Arizona's most disturbing murder mysteries, a tale of

greed, glamour, and a woman incapable of seeing herself as anything else but a star.

This is Showgirl, Bad Bitch Marjorie Orban.

Hello campers, for this one we're in Scottsdale, Arizona, September 28, 2004.

Marjorie Orban and her boyfriend Larry were enjoying a quiet night in at her house, a

nice big place in an upper middle-class neighborhood.

Despite the age difference between them, Marjorie was 43 and Larry was 60, they seemed like

a pretty well-matched couple.

Both good-looking, both tall and athletic, they'd met at the gym, in fact.

They both went there every day, rain of shine to lift weights.

Anyway, Marjorie and Larry were just hanging out in the living room that night when suddenly

...