BURTON, Mich. — After living in the Utah desert for two years, Jake Sanford returned to Michigan a different person.

Gone was the lovable goofball, the high school cut-up who would do anything for a laugh.

In his stead was a man ravaged by crystal meth, said friends. He also bore something just as encompassing as a drug addiction — an abiding animosity of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Authorities explored that antipathy as they investigated Sanford’s Sept. 29 attack on a Mormon church in Grand Blanc Township, killing four people and burning down the building. Police officers killed Sanford in a shootout at the church.

On Oct. 31, the FBI said the probe confirmed its suspicions that the assault was driven by Sanford’s hatred of the religion.

“This is a targeted act of violence believed to be motivated by the assailant's anti-religious beliefs,” said Jennifer Runyan, special agent in charge of the FBI office in Detroit.

Runyan didn’t say how investigators arrived at the conclusion or give any indication that the FBI is still investigating what led to Sanford's rampage.

Sanford’s friends were aware of his feelings about the Mormon faith but said he never acted upon them or threatened to do so. They wonder if something aggravated the enmity in the days leading up to the shooting.

They remain flummoxed as they try to reconcile the man they knew with the visitation of evil upon the church.

“The man that came back from Utah wasn’t the same,” said Frank Tersigni of Davisburg, a childhood friend. “The man that the media knows isn’t the man I knew."

Some clues to Sanford’s actions might lie in an account of his life drawn from interviews and public records obtained by The Detroit News.

One experience stood out among the reporting. One week before the murderous rampage, Sanford tried to have his son baptized at a different church. After being rebuffed, he stalked out of the sanctuary in anger, the pastor said.

'Major conflict' erupts in Utah

Short and stocky, Sanford was like a bowling ball that radiated energy, friends said.

He seemed to know the entire population of Atlas Township, which is just southeast of Flint in Genesee County. Everyone was “buddy” or “brother.” He liked to tease people to get a laugh.

No shrinking violet, he enjoyed making a spectacle of himself, said Mary Sears, another childhood friend. During the high school homecoming parade last year, he danced along the route dressed as a chimney sweep, an ode to his job as a fireplace installer.

“He would be outrageous, but that was Jake,” said Sears, 40, of Holly. “He would be crazy, funny, life of the party.”

Sanford served four years in the Marines, including seven months in the Iraq War, where he didn’t see any action, according to records with the U.S. Marine Corps.

After the military, Sanford was looking for a fresh start, according to friends. He moved to Utah in 2009 to work for a lawn care service owned by a family acquaintance.

But he began using methamphetamines he received from coworkers, said Tersigni’s twin brother, Pete, who was also a close friend. Sanford also used K2, a synthetic marijuana, his parents later told authorities, according to a police report by the Genesee County Sheriff’s Office.

In 2010, Sanford was arrested for driving with a blood alcohol level of 0.18, which is twice the legal limit, according to Utah court records. He pleaded guilty to a reduced charge of impaired driving.

“He was in rough shape,” said Pete Tersigni, 40, of Holly. “It (meth) messed his head up.”

In Utah, where 55% of the population is Mormon, Sanford began dating a devout member of the faith.

Sanford was the type of person who fell in love easily, and the relationship quickly grew serious, he told friends. Church members talked to him about “sealing,” a religious ceremony that binds a husband and wife for eternity.

But Sanford would need to join the religion before getting married, said Sandra Winter, a Jeremy Ranch, Utah, resident who rented a room to him.

The conversion would entail the removal of his tattoos, she said. It wasn’t known whether his use of drugs and alcohol, which is frowned on by the church, affected the relationship.

Despite his strong feelings for the woman, whose older sister was a Miss Utah, Sanford balked at joining the church. The dilemma weighed heavily on him, Winter said.

“It was a major conflict,” she said. "He really wanted to be with her."

The relationship ended under unclear circumstances. In 2011, two years after arriving in Utah, Sanford returned to Michigan.

A changed man comes home

Sanford moved back to Michigan, accompanied by the twin demons of drug addiction and religious obsession. He was no longer outgoing but withdrawn, friends said. His perpetual smile was gone. He seemed to have left his joy in Utah.

He spent all his money on drugs, his parents told the Genesee sheriff’s office, according to the police report. They gave him a limited amount of cash and tracked his spending to ensure he wouldn’t buy narcotics.

His parents, Tom Sanford and Brenda Walters, held a family intervention and provided faith-based counseling for their son, according to the police report. After a month, however, Sanford resumed his old habits.

At their wits' end, the parents contacted the sheriff’s office in September 2011 to see what else could be done.

“I feel for his dad. He did everything he could do to help him,” said Sears, the childhood friend.

Five weeks after the parents sought help from the sheriff’s office, someone burglarized their home.

The thief entered the house through an unlocked basement door and removed a small wooden box from atop Walters’ dresser, according to the police report. It contained assorted jewelry, including class rings belonging to Jake Sanford, his mother and his father.

Also missing was $100 worth of change in a glass jar and a dozen pieces of jewelry in a dresser drawer.

The parents had a hunch who did it.

“They are positive their son is the one that stole these items,” a deputy wrote in the report.

When a deputy interviewed Jake Sanford, who was living with his sister, he denied taking the money before the police mentioned it was missing, the police report said. When the deputy pointed out the unprompted remark, Sanford said he didn’t steal any jewelry, either.

The burglary was never prosecuted, possibly because the parents didn’t push for charges, Genesee County Sheriff Chris Swanson said.

Tom Sanford and his daughter, Katheryne Hamilton of Metamora, did not respond to multiple requests for an interview.

'He seemed happy ... again'

Sanford eventually overcame his drug addiction and forged the trappings of a normal life.

He got married and had a son. He worked for his dad’s chimney service, cleaning and installing fireplaces. He went deer hunting and ice fishing.

Shades of the carefree country boy reemerged as he showed flashes of his impish humor, friends said. During the winter, he plowed the driveways of neighbors.

His ham bone also returned, drawing attention to himself by driving around town in a four-door pickup with two American flags waving in the back.

“He seemed happy. He was the crazy prankster again,” said Beth Norris of Clarkston, a high school acquaintance.

It wasn’t all sugar and light.

Sanford’s son was born in 2015 with a rare genetic disorder, according to a Facebook page dedicated to the boy’s recovery. Congenital hyperinsulinism causes the body to create high levels of insulin, which could damage the brain. He was hospitalized for several months as he underwent different surgeries.

Sanford, however, remained steadfast in supporting his son during the darkest months of the illness and throughout the recovery.

An obsession emerges

Sanford kicked the drugs but not his dislike of Mormonism, as he continually expressed animus toward the religion, according to those closest to him.

It was all he could talk about at Pete Tersigni’s wedding in 2012, friends said. Other guests tried to change the subject, but he persisted.

He said Mormons were the Antichrist and wanted to take over the world, said Pete Tersigni, the childhood friend. He didn’t view them as true Christians, saying they placed themselves above Jesus.

Sanford didn’t like their belief that God was once a man and that they used books beyond the Bible.

“He needed to let us know: Mormons are bad,” Tersigni said.

When Sanford ranted against the religion, he seemed to have two personalities, friends said. One would be funny and easygoing, but the other would become manic as he listed all his grievances against the faith.

Friends said Sanford never threatened to do anything violent.

But the acquaintances were stunned by the randomness of his beef. This was Michigan, not Utah, they thought. Of all groups, why would someone have a problem with the Mormon faith?

'He left agitated'

On Sept. 21, one week before the attack in Grand Blanc Township, Sanford attended a church service in Goodrich.

Sanford, who wasn’t a regular member of The River Church, wanted to have his 10-year-old son baptized, said Pastor Caleb Combs, a spokesperson for the church.

After talking with the boy, the church staff felt he didn’t understand the reason for the sacrament and offered to prepare him for the rite. But Sanford was adamant. He wanted it done then.

“He wasn’t pleased with the decision,” Combs said of Jake Sanford. “He left agitated. He was visibly frustrated.”

But Sanford wasn’t violent and didn’t make any threats, the pastor said.

The church subsequently tried to contact Sanford to counsel his son for baptism, but never heard back from him, Combs said.

On the day after the baptism attempt, Sanford was visited by a man running for the Burton City Council.

The candidate, Kris Johns, said Sanford, unbidden, gave an overview of his life. Speaking quickly, he listed his experiences in bulleted fashion: Marines, Iraq, Utah, drugs, girlfriend.

He didn’t mention the baptism attempt from the day before.

Sanford didn’t elaborate on any of his life experiences except one, Johns said. The exception was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

He unleashed a string of criticisms of the church. Johns said they were the type of complaints that could easily be found on Google or YouTube.

“He really wanted to talk about the faith. He knew a lot about it,” Johns said.

During the 20-minute talk on his driveway, Sanford wasn’t angry. He was polite and friendly, shaking Johns’ hand and thanking him for stopping by.

After the conversation, Johns left a voicemail for a friend who is a Mormon bishop in Utah. He described Sanford’s comments as a tirade.

“It was something else. He had some views,” Johns told his friend, according to a copy of the voicemail he shared with The News. “When you do door knocking, political stuff, some folks have some very unique ideas.”

Two days after the voicemail, Sanford unleashed a trail of devastation in a church sanctuary six miles away.

Devastation unfolds

People who knew and loved Sanford have tried to imagine what he was thinking on the morning of Sept. 28.

Their friend rammed his GMC Sierra pickup, still bearing the two American flags, into a brick wall beneath the white spire of the Grand Blanc Township church.

He stepped through the hole he created and, with an assault rifle, shot into the scattering congregation of several hundred people. He then used gas to set the sanctuary ablaze, according to police. Explosive devices were later found in his vehicle.

The FBI called it a targeted act of violence. The White House said Sanford hated Mormons.

What pushed the hatred into alleged murder, however, remains unknown. The answer may have been lost when Sanford was killed during a shootout with police right after the attack.

Norris, the high school acquaintance, said she didn’t understand much of Sanford’s life once he returned from Utah. She wondered if the two-headed beast that bedeviled her friend played a role in his final act.

“I think the drugs twisted his thinking,” Norris said. “They convinced him that Mormons were evil, and he never stopped thinking it.”

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