In a rollercoaster of compassion and chaos straight out of a Hollywood script, Daniel Curtis Lee, the beloved Simon “Cookie” Cook from Nickelodeon’s Ned’s Declassified School Survival Guide, turned real-life superhero when he discovered his former co-star Tylor Chase was battling homelessness on the unforgiving streets of Riverside, California. The reunion, captured in viral social media posts around Christmas 2025, started as a beacon of hope but spiraled into a stark reminder of the hidden demons plaguing former child stars.

The saga began when a video of Chase, who charmed audiences as the eccentric Martin Qwerly in 33 episodes of the show from 2004 to 2007, surfaced online, showing him in dire straits. Without hesitation, Lee, now 34 and thriving in music and acting, sprang into action. He tracked Chase down, leading to an emotional embrace that melted hearts worldwide. “It was like no time had passed,” Lee shared in an Instagram reel, as the two reminisced over pizza slices in the rain. Lee footed the bill for a hotel room, ensuring Chase had a safe haven for the night, and even facilitated a touching FaceTime call with their old pal Devon Werkheiser, the show’s lead Ned Bigby. The virtual reunion reinforced that Chase was “still loved and remembered,” with Werkheiser later praising Chase’s kind spirit while highlighting the grips of addiction and mental health struggles.

But the feel-good moment took a devastating turn. Mere hours after check-in, hotel staff alerted Lee to a trashed room: door ajar, microwave bizarrely placed in the bathtub, refrigerator flipped upside down. Devastated, Lee took to TikTok on Christmas morning, December 25, 2025, to share the “difficult conversation.” He revealed Chase’s battles with possible schizophrenia, addiction, and psychotic episodes, lamenting California’s inadequate mental health systems like the CARE Act. “We have to do something before it’s too late,” Lee urged, floating the idea of a 5150 involuntary hold to force treatment. Despite the setback, Lee’s resolve didn’t waver; he consulted Chase’s family, who advised against cash handouts, and explored trust funds tied to rehab. Chase’s father, reconnected via Lee’s efforts, provided a glimmer of “love and connection” that briefly lifted spirits.

This isn’t an isolated tale. Ned’s Declassified, a tween favorite blending school hijinks with life tips, launched careers but left some vulnerable. Chase, 36, has minor credits post-show, including The Secret Life of the American Teenager, but faded from the spotlight. Riverside police note weekly outreach offers rejected by Chase, who’s described as cordial yet resistant. Peers like Shaun Weiss, himself a recovery advocate from The Mighty Ducks, joined Lee in offering detox at Eleven 11 Recovery, emphasizing consent-based help.

Lee’s mantra, “Love is all we can really give people sometimes,” echoes amid the heartbreak. Fans flooded comments with support, sparking discussions on child actor protections—residuals, mental health resources, and post-fame transitions. Werkheiser, hosting a podcast revisiting the show’s legacy with co-star Lindsey Shaw, called for compassion, noting fame’s toll.

As 2025 closes, this story underscores friendship’s power and fragility. Lee’s actions, though thwarted, inspire hope for Chase’s recovery. In an industry rife with pitfalls, it begs: How many more stars must fall before systemic change? For now, the Ned’s crew proves bonds endure, even in turmoil.