'Abusive since day one'

Testing the waters can backfire

'Delivering meaningful cost reductions'

'A thousand Lebanese mothers must weep.'

'I have smelled and experienced'

'To try to force myself to not be gay'

'It takes two to tango'

'I feel very bad for Lebanon'

A 35-year-old woman was found wasting away to skin and bones on Los Angeles’ Skid Row, barely conscious on the floor of a fetid tent, nodding in and out amid the fentanyl haze. She died on June 17, 2026, in a hospital bed of meningitis and sepsis triggered by terminal malnutrition. Her body surrendered.  The woman was Daveigh Chase, the voice of Disney’s beloved Lilo in “Lilo & Stitch,” and the nightmare Samara crawling from the well in “The Ring.” She had millions in unclaimed residuals from her child stardom sitting untouched in accounts because she was “too far gone” on heroin and fentanyl. Her longtime manager, John Ryan, and stepsister, Gaia Brown, had hired a private investigator months earlier after videos of her on Skid Row surfaced. They raced to intervene, but by then it was too late. Talent, youth, money, love—everything the homelessness industry swears the desperate lack—none of it could save her. Daveigh Chase’s tragedy is a real and brutal case study in the lethal failure of progressive compassion. Would LA Mayor Karen Bass’s taxpayer-funded dentures have saved her?  Bass insists meth addicts “can’t succeed without teeth” and pushes public dental programs so the toothless can flash a smile at their next job interview. Give them comprehensive dental care, she says, and watch them waltz into employment and self-respect. Yet Daveigh Chase once had the perfect Hollywood smile, the perfect voice, and the perfect resume—everything Bass claims the unhoused lack—and she still ended up skeletal and septic in a Skid Row tent. A smile does not fix a brain hijacked by fentanyl. Would a job have saved her?  Progressives love to say the homeless “just need a job” and a little opportunity. Chase already had the Hollywood resume, the industry connections most Americans could only dream of, and millions in the bank. Addiction had long since burned away the last remnants of discipline, reliability, and the will to show up for life itself. Would “housing first” and a subsidized apartment have saved her?  With millions in residuals, she could have bought stability many times over. The money existed. She chose—or illness compelled her toward—the streets. Unconditional housing for the actively addicted becomes just a nicer place to use and isolate until the body gives out. Would harm reduction—clean needles, test strips, cash cards—have saved her?  Decades of that approach in California turned Skid Row into an open-air fentanyl supermarket. Chase had access to whatever she wanted on those streets. The paraphernalia didn’t restore her; it sustained the spiral that left her hospitalized for starvation before the infections finished the job. For years, blue-city progressives have peddled the soothing fiction that homelessness stems from a shortage of housing, cash, and “dignity.” California has squandered billions on unconditional apartments, dental programs, needle exchanges, and Prop 47’s decriminalization of hard drugs. The results? Exploding tent cities, sidewalks turned sewers, and a former child star with millions, still dying emaciated on camera. If these solutions work, why did a woman with millions die skeletal and septic while her residuals gathered dust?  The addicted brain is not a rational actor waiting for better incentives. It is hijacked—prioritizing dope over dignity, food, or future. Progressive policy refuses to admit this, preferring performative empathy that enables until the obituary is written. The Left’s sacred rule that we must never “criminalize homelessness” shows how upside-down the morality has become. Letting a talented young woman decompose publicly on Skid Row, muttering to phantoms, is not liberty. It is state-sanctioned slow suicide.  We commit the suicidal. We restrain the delirious. We quarantine the contagious. But the fentanyl zombie injecting in broad daylight? Her “autonomy” is sacred. Daveigh Chase was exactly the kind of person progressives insist should never end up homeless: a millionaire child star with substantial earnings, industry connections, and a devoted support network that refused to give up on her. Yet even she died skeletal and septic in a Skid Row tent. Even her own manager and family understood that only forced treatment and rehab could have saved her. They tried desperately, planning to stabilize her in Los Angeles before flying her to a treatment facility in Costa Rica, but by the time they reached Skid Row, she had disappeared. They were too late. Addiction destroyed her, while progressive ideology made sure nothing stopped it. Bass’ denture diplomacy and the endless liturgy of more tents and needles only mock her memory. How many more Daveigh Chases must waste away before progressives finally abandon their delusion?  Homelessness has become a subsidized lifestyle under their policies. This is a medical and moral emergency. Progressive policies do not merely tolerate this misery, they subsidize it with cash, housing, needles, and zero accountability. Forced treatment is not cruelty; it is the recognition that some lost souls cannot choose life until the state compels detox, medication, structure, and accountability. Anything less is performative compassion with body bags as the finale. Daveigh deserved rescue. So do the thousands still haunting our cities. The time for pretending is over. It’s time to trade platitudes for intervention—before the next viral video becomes another preventable tragedy. We publish a variety of perspectives. Nothing written here is to be construed as representing the views of the Daily Signal.

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