It's a cold April morning in the suburbs of London with the golden arches of glow in

the background and their breath visible in the cold air.

Here they were.

A strange gang-like group huddled at a McDonald's parking lot.

You have representatives from the FBI, you have prosecutors from the US Justice Department,

you have some British cops from Scotland Yard that are there to kind of help coordinate

the whole thing.

It's six o'clock in the morning and you know at that point in time they don't know what

they're going to meet.

They're preparing for a sting of a high-target white collar criminal.

Imagining they'll pull up to an obnoxiously huge house, multi-car garage full of expensive

cars that the owner probably never drives.

But what they found was not that at all.

They put up outside a very standard ordinary looking suburban terrorist home with a satellite

dish in a plastic porch and then this short Asian guy with a beard, old guy answers the

door and shouts upstairs to his son who's asleep.

You know, Navinda there's some people here to see you and now for a couple of minutes

later, pads down the stairs in his tracksuit bottoms, his hair everywhere, half asleep and

that's when they read him his riots.

His parents, his friends, his neighbors, the male man, no one knew that this skinny dude

in the sloppy tracksuit and morning hair was accused of having brought the global financial

markets to its knees.

...