About five hours into Elon Musk’s testimony, I typed the following sentence into my notes: “I have never been more sympathetic to Sam Altman in my life.”
That’s not something I ever expected to write. But watching Musk on the stand was a masterclass in self-sabotage.
His direct testimony was actually an improvement over the previous day — even if his lawyer kept asking leading questions that practically fed him the answers. But that brief moment of competence was completely obliterated by the cross-examination that followed.
For hours, Musk refused to answer yes-or-no questions with yes or no. He occasionally “forgot” things he’d testified to that very morning. He scolded defense lawyer William Savitt like a disappointed headmaster. I watched a few jury members glance at each other during one particularly testy exchange. One woman’s expression said it all.

Here’s the thing about Elon Musk in court: he can’t help himself. He’s a man who has built his public persona on being the smartest person in the room, but that instinct is lethal when you’re under oath. A good witness makes the opposing lawyer’s job hard. Musk made it easy.
Savitt would ask a simple question. Musk would launch into a rambling explanation. Savitt would ask again. Musk would accuse him of misrepresenting things. The pattern repeated until the judge had to intervene multiple times.
I’ve covered plenty of tech CEO depositions and trials. Most of them are boring. The lawyers do the talking, the executives give clipped answers, and everyone goes home. This was not that. This was a car wreck in slow motion.
The irony is thick. Musk has spent years positioning himself as a free speech absolutist who can out-argue anyone. But in a courtroom, where the rules are fixed and you can’t control the narrative, his instincts betrayed him. He couldn’t stop himself from being the Elon Musk we all know from Twitter — combative, dismissive, and convinced he’s right.
It’s the same man who bought Twitter for $44 billion and then spent months alienating advertisers and users. The same man who promised Full Self-Driving “next year” for the last decade. The same man who can’t help but pick fights he doesn’t need to win.
By the end of the session, I wasn’t sure who looked worse: Musk, for his performance, or Altman, for having to deal with this guy as a business partner. But I knew one thing: if I were on that jury, I wouldn’t trust a word Musk said.
Musk has always been his own worst enemy. In court, that’s not a metaphor — it’s a legal liability.
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