Some stories defy simple categorization—they demand a place on the metaphorical shelf labeled “Unexpected Human Behavior.” One such case reemerged this week from Burbank, California, where the serial “butt-sniffer” managed to get himself caught once more, offering a blend of comedy, discomfort, and a sobering look at the limits of both rehabilitation and retail security.
Once More, With (Less) Feeling
According to KTLA, Burbank Police were called out to the Empire Center shopping complex after staff at Nordstrom Rack reported a man acting suspiciously in the women’s department. By the time officers arrived, the suspect—later identified as Calese Carron Crowder—had already wandered over to the Walmart across the parking lot, continuing his oddly specific pattern of crime.
Footage reviewed by police captured Crowder dogging a female shopper, trailing her into the women’s department, and then, in what can only be described as a uniquely unsettling maneuver, crouching to sniff her rear end. Officers watched the scene unfold via the store’s security cameras and, once the act was clear, stepped in to detain him.
For those experiencing a twinge of déjà vu, that’s understandable. Crowder made headlines in August 2023 after a Barnes & Noble incident—chronicled by KTLA and widely circulated in a viral TikTok video—where he engaged in identical behavior. Michaela Witter, whose TikTok post put the incident in the national spotlight, has stated that her decision to share the footage prompted dozens of other women to come forward with eerily similar experiences involving Crowder.
Offenses, Old and New
Court records cited by KTLA detail Crowder’s history as a registered sex offender currently on active parole, with previous convictions spanning indecent exposure, burglary, and robbery. In a detail highlighted by KTLA, Crowder wasn’t just sentenced for his sniffing exploits; he was also connected to prowling and peeping crimes, including one incident in Glendale where he was caught watching a family through their home’s windows. Notably, his release due to jail overcrowding in 2023 raises the uncomfortable question of whether the system is unintentionally facilitating his return appearances in news headlines.
The New York Post corroborates these escapades, noting Crowder’s multiple arrests for “sniffing women’s rear ends while in public,” and adds detail on his pattern: trailing women around stores before engaging in “disturbing acts” when he thinks no one is watching (spoiler: someone is always watching when you’re in Walmart).
The outlet also notes that, following his 2023 brush with TikTok fame, Crowder was arrested for peeping into an occupied Glendale home but promptly released—yet another twist in this cycle of immobilization and release. Earlier in the report, it’s mentioned that he’s now charged with loitering with intent to commit a crime and is being held on $100,000 bail while awaiting a court appearance scheduled for August 1.
The Unintended Power of Social Surveillance
As NewsBreak documents, social media has played a curious role in this saga. The original Barnes & Noble video led to a deluge of responses and prompted additional victims to share their experiences. The outlet includes that Crowder’s notoriety extends beyond the internet, as Candice Horry—wife of former Lakers forward Robert Horry—posted on social media that Crowder had previously stalked her teenage daughter over a decade ago, calling for more decisive action: “He needs to be put away for good.”
What stands out here isn’t simply the outlandish nature of these incidents but their almost mechanical repetition. Crowder’s method—wait, lurk, sniff, flee or get caught—runs on a loop, with law enforcement and bail hearings acting like bookmarks between episodes. Authorities told NewsBreak that Crowder has been repeatedly identified and detained for offenses of a similar nature dating back several years, yet the outcomes remain startlingly familiar.
Patterns, Prevention, and Questions That Remain
One unshakable observation, as all outlets describe, is the system’s inability to intervene early or effectively. Bail is set, documentation is thorough, and Crowder’s status as a “career repeat offender” is recognized, but the process still spits him back out. KTLA’s reporting points out the role of overcrowded jails, while NewsBreak adds context about his ongoing parole for lewd acts.
Meanwhile, the collective vigilance of the public—embodied by TikTok users, store security staff, and citizen tip-lines—now stands as the most effective check on Crowder’s repeat performances. Police investigators, as KTLA underscores, suspect there may be additional victims who have yet to come forward.
This begs the question: does notoriety actually curb behavior like Crowder’s, or does the cycle simply adapt to new forms of public shaming and watchfulness? When repeat offenders become unexpected internet icons, are we witnessing a failure of criminal justice, a new kind of grassroots accountability, or some confounding blend of both?
Only in the Curiosities Section
In the end, Crowder’s case is the kind of oddity that, while uncomfortable, reveals something bigger about the intersection of public vigilance, social media, and the stubborn resilience of certain human impulses. It’s less a punchline and more a cautionary tale, one likely to be bookmarked for future reference in the archives of “Why Did This Happen Again?”
For now, Crowder waits in custody, awaiting his next court appearance. The rest of us, perhaps, will keep half an eye on the nearest security camera the next time we’re in line at a department store, quietly hoping this curiosity doesn’t come up behind us.
