Inside the white bungalow in Montebello, noise rules.

The television blares; a robotic voice bellows from a red radio, updating National Weather Service information. A man with a Santa Claus beard — and the build to go with it — sits in a chair squeezing sallow lemons into a cup and talking about what he says are revelations from God.

Two other men, self-proclaimed best friends, slouch on the sofa. Stephan Polfliet talks constantly and Mitchell Kautz stares off, presumably listening. Another, Grady, scarcely leaves his bedroom except to grab a smoke in the frontyard, where vegetables grow and fruit trees bloom, including papaya.

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