Remember the kid who stole every scene in "Role Models" and turned "That's So Raven" reruns into appointment viewing?
Thompson was everywhere in the mid-2000s, a pint-sized comic tornado with a mouth that ran faster than any adult in the room.
Then, like a lot of child stars, he quietly slipped out of the spotlight — and the internet never quite stopped wondering where he landed.
He voiced the hyperactive D'Angelo in the 2006 animated film "Barnyard," traded barbs with Paul Rudd and Seann William Scott in "Role Models," and popped up in "30 Rock," "The Tracy Morgan Show," and a string of commercials that made him a recognizable face.
He wasn't just a cute kid; he had timing, a raspy delivery, and the kind of fearless energy casting directors chase for years.
Hollywood has a brutal track record with young Black actors, and the transition from "funny kid" to "leading man" is a gap the industry rarely builds a bridge for.
Thompson found himself auditioning in a town that had typecast him, and he's been candid in interviews about how dehumanizing that stretch felt.
What he did next is the part most people miss.
Thompson pivoted toward music, releasing rap tracks and leaning into a persona that matched the confidence he'd always carried on camera.
He also got real about his mental health, speaking openly about depression and the pressure of growing up in front of cameras.
In a 2020 interview, he described stepping back as survival, not failure — a distinction a lot of former child stars never get to make publicly.
He's also kept a low-key presence on social media, occasionally resurfacing with throwback photos that send fans into nostalgic spirals.
Every few months, a clip from "Role Models" goes viral again, and the replies fill up with the same question: what is he doing now?
The answer, frustratingly for gossip hounds, is mostly just living — away from TMZ cameras and red carpets.
The bigger story here is how quickly audiences discard the kids they once adored.
Thompson gave us quotable lines and genuine laughs, then got treated like a novelty that expired.
He didn't disappear because he lacked talent.
He stepped back because the machine that built him wasn't built to keep him.
So the next time a "where are they now" thread drags his name up, remember the receipts.
Thompson didn't vanish — he just stopped performing for an industry that stopped casting him.
Final Thoughts
That's less a cautionary tale and more a quiet act of self-respect.