I was in the courthouse when Elon Musk testified in his case against OpenAI. Here is what it was like. [Business Insider]
I had never seen a courtroom buzz quite like this. It was a chilly Tuesday morning in San Francisco, and the line to get into the federal courthouse stretched nearly a block. Lawyers in dark suits clutched coffee cups. A handful of tech reporters whispered into their phones. And then, the man himself: Elon Musk, walking through the main entrance in a dark blazer and sunglasses, flanked by two attorneys. No fanfare. No pause for photos. Just a tight, focused stride into the building.
The case, of course, is Musk’s lawsuit against OpenAI, the company he co-founded in 2015 and later left. He claims the organization abandoned its original nonprofit mission — developing artificial intelligence for the benefit of humanity — and became a for-profit titan serving Microsoft’s commercial interests. OpenAI counters that Musk’s real gripe is personal: he wanted total control, didn’t get it, and now wants to slow down a competitor. But inside Courtroom 14, all of that drama condensed into one man’s testimony.
The atmosphere before the testimony
By 9 a.m., the courtroom was packed. I managed to snag a seat in the third row, squeezed between a Bloomberg reporter and a law student who told me he was here “for the spectacle.” The bailiff called the room to order. Judge Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers, known for her sharp questions in the Epic Games v. Apple trial, sat at the bench looking like she had seen it all before. The OpenAI legal team — crisp, calm — sat at one table. Musk’s team, led by a visibly tense Morgan Cloud, sat at the other.
Musk himself was already seated. He wore a dark suit, no tie. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, occasionally whispering to his lawyer. It was the same posture you see in photos from his factory floors: coiled, impatient, ready to correct someone. But here, he could not control the room. He could only answer questions.
The moment Musk took the stand
When his name was called, Musk rose slowly. He walked to the witness stand, adjusted the microphone, and looked directly at OpenAI’s lead counsel, Karen Dunn. She began with a simple question: “Mr. Musk, do you recall the day you resigned from OpenAI’s board in 2018?”
What followed was not a shouting match. It was something more revealing: a careful, sometimes cagey, back-and-forth. Musk’s answers were short — “I do not recall,” “That is not how I remember it,” “I was busy with Tesla at the time.” At one point, Dunn pressed him on a 2017 email in which he allegedly suggested merging OpenAI into Tesla. Musk paused for a long second. “I may have considered it,” he said, “but it was never a serious proposal.” A few people in the gallery exchanged glances. The courtroom stenographer’s fingers never stopped.
Then came the part that made the room go silent. Dunn introduced a series of text messages between Musk and Sam Altman, OpenAI’s CEO, from 2015. In one, Musk wrote: “I am worried that Google DeepMind will destroy humanity. We need to build a counter-force.” Dunn asked: “Did you truly believe OpenAI was that counter-force, or was it a business hedge?” Musk leaned forward. “Both,” he said. “You can care about safety and still make money. I don’t see a contradiction.”
The judge’s intervention
Judge Rogers interjected several times. At one point, she asked Musk directly: “Mr. Musk, you have said publicly that OpenAI is now a closed-source, profit-driven entity. But you invested in xAI, which is also for-profit. How is that different?” The question hung in the air. Musk shifted in his seat. “xAI is transparent,” he said. “We publish our safety research. OpenAI does not.” It was a sharp answer, but it did not fully satisfy the judge’s curiosity. She made a note on her pad and moved on.
By the time the morning session ended, Musk looked tired. He had been on the stand for nearly two hours. He stepped down, walked past the press section without making eye contact, and disappeared into a side room with his legal team. The courtroom emptied slowly. I overheard a young attorney from OpenAI’s team whisper to a colleague: “He’s not wrong about the mission drift. But he’s not right about the motive.”
What I took away from the room
Watching Elon Musk testify is like watching a high-stakes chess player who keeps wanting to knock over the board. He is brilliant, yes. He is impatient. He truly believes he is the only person who can steer AI away from disaster. But inside that courtroom, under oath, the grand narrative collided with the messy reality of emails, board minutes, and broken partnerships. The case will likely take months to resolve. But one thing was clear from the gallery: this is not just a legal dispute. It is a clash of two visions for the future of intelligence — one built on openness, the other on control. And neither side is entirely wrong.
The trial resumes Thursday. I will be back with my notebook.
Ahmed Abed – News journalist