A quick warning, this episode contains material not suitable for children. When I was a kid growing up in Northern Minnesota, I decided to start my very own detective agency.

There were just a few obstacles. We lived in the woods, 10 miles from the nearest town.

Also, I made this decision in the dead of winter.

And my neighbors, many who lived miles away, they were A, annoyed by my unannounced

house calls, and B, let's just say unamused by the big announcement that I, a nine-year-old, was

available for hire. But that didn't stop my pitch, missing valuable family jewels, searching for a long-lost spinster aunt, I'm your guy.

And gradually, after more than a few slam doors, I realized that the people who live in the woods

reside there for a reason.

They want to be left alone. And after all that literal legwork and frostbite, I had zero clients.

Little did I know, decades later, I'd have another shot at my dream.

In the early 1990s, a safe deposit box at First Bloomington Lake National Bank in Minneapolis went

unclaimed. For months the rent had not been paid and per the bank's policy the contents

would be sent to the Minnesota Department of Commerce.

Inside this Slim Middle Box in a nondescript bank,

the employees found something that definitely caught their attention.

I'm Paul Diddy, and this is time capsule, the silver chain. This story begins with a text message for my friend April She. Have you heard of the Silver James Social Club?

April's a writer for TV and film and co-founder of her own production company, Diversity

Higher Limited.

We've been friends for 10 years and even formed our own Writers Group because, well, I'm also

a TV writer.

I have not.

Immediately after my reply, April sends me a link to a 2017 GQ article about the Silver Chain Social Club,

...