Author: Ada, Deep Tide TechFlow

On May 18, 2026, this was the day of the final judgment in the century-long lawsuit between Musk and OpenAI.

The nine jurors began deliberating at 8:30 AM. Less than two hours later, they unanimously ruled that all of Musk's claims were time-barred and dismissed them all.

The court clerk handed a note to Judge Yvonne Gonzalez Rogers. She accepted the jury's opinion and added, "There is sufficient evidence to support the jury's finding, which is why I'm prepared to dismiss it on the spot."

The moment the ruling was delivered, the ongoing "damages" hearing was directly interrupted. No one was interested in continuing to calculate this account.

134 billion dollars, removal of Altman, dismantling of OpenAI's profitable entities, all turned to dust.

And Musk himself was not even in court that day; he was absent from the closing arguments on May 14, having followed Trump's delegation to Beijing, which seemed to be more important.

A lawsuit that started its countdown from the moment it was filed

According to TechCrunch, throughout this lawsuit, the jury did not evaluate whether Musk's claims were valid. They only judged one thing: you came too late.

What does it mean to come too late?

OpenAI's defense logic was simple and ruthless: your so-called "violation of charitable trust," “unjust enrichment,” if it really happened, occurred before 2021. You sued in 2024, exceeding the three-year statute of limitations.

The jury unanimously agreed with this reasoning with a nine-to-zero vote.

Not a single juror accepted Musk's "delayed discovery" argument. In other words, no one believed he only later found out that OpenAI did those things.

In the assessment of Musk's claim amount, the judge directly told Musk's expert witness, Dr. Paul Watzan: "Your analysis seems completely unrelated to the basic facts."

Such a public rebuke has not been seen in federal court for a long time. The judge's meaning was clear: your claim logic itself is a house of cards, disconnected from the underlying facts.

In response, Musk tweeted on X, implying that for those closely following the case, it was clear that Altman and OpenAI co-founder Brockman indeed enriched themselves by stealing from a charity. The only question is, when did they do it.

Translated into plain language, it means I didn't lose substantively; I lost on the calendar.

OpenAI's chief lawyer, William Savitt, countered, "This is a substantive decision. You brought the lawsuit too late, and you did so because you were waiting to use it as a weapon against a competitor you cannot beat in the market."

Rashomon in the courtroom

The three-week trial was much more interesting than Musk's claims themselves.

The first contrast came from Ilya Sutskever.

This former chief scientist of OpenAI was one of the masterminds behind the shocking "failed attempt to remove Altman" incident in November 2023. He testified in court that he had spent months gathering evidence of Altman's consistent deceitful behavior; later he changed his stance, saying that he regretted pushing for Altman's reinstatement.

This testimony was not good for either side.

The second contrast came from Altman himself.

Altman admitted during cross-examination that he had "occasionally lied." At the same time, five witnesses described him as "dishonest" during the trial.

In the context of traditional corporate governance, such testimony would be enough for a CEO to pack up and leave. But in the reality of the AI industry in 2026, nothing happened. OpenAI's valuation was still rising, the IPO was still being prepared, and Altman remained in his position.

The third contrast was the subtlest.

OpenAI called Shivon Zilis to the stand. This Neuralink executive is also the mother of Musk's four children. However, her testimony did not corroborate Musk's claims about OpenAI's founding commitments.

This is a typical character assassination strategy. Legally, what she said doesn’t matter; what matters is that the jury saw a picture where even the woman with whom you have four children does not stand by your side.

Musk himself testified in court, admitting that his initial investment in OpenAI was about 38 million dollars. But OpenAI's lawyer Sarah Eddy emphasized at the closing that this money "had no attached conditions," meaning Musk "did not have a charitable trust to claim."

The true winners are not in the courtroom

At the moment the jury made their ruling on May 18, OpenAI's valuation had reached 852 billion dollars, and the company was racing toward an IPO in Q4 of 2026.

If Musk had won this lawsuit, it would mean overturning OpenAI's PBC (Public Benefit Corporation) structure, which is the legal premise for its IPO.

But OpenAI won; it not only won the lawsuit but also removed the biggest legal uncertainty of "possible restructuring risk" from the table in the final mile of the IPO process.

PitchBook analyst Harrison Rolfs had previously written in a report that even without Musk's lawsuit, OpenAI's original schedule for the IPO in Q4 of 2026 was "too aggressive," and the actual window might be pushed back to mid to late 2027.

There are three reasons. First, the company is still operating at a significant loss, expecting to lose 14 billion dollars in 2026, with cash consumption of about 17 billion dollars. Second, Congress's investigation into Altman's conflicts of interest is ongoing. Third, more than 600 current and former OpenAI employees are expected to cash out 6.6 billion dollars through the secondary market before October 2025, with about 75 core members taking out cash at a cap of 30 million dollars each.

Every round of internal tender offers at OpenAI has seen increasing bids. But looking at the proportions and rhythms of core employees cashing out, it feels more like a race. These two things are not contradictory; valuation is the story told for the market, while cashing out is the truth told for oneself.

So, what about Altman himself?

An intuitive fact is that in the shareholding structure after OpenAI's reorganization, Altman's holdings are "TBD" (To Be Determined). He currently has zero shares in this company that could become a trillion-dollar enterprise.

Market analysts interpret this as if Altman wins the legal dispute with Musk, he will receive stock grants.

At 10:23 AM on May 18, after that note reached the judge's hand, the biggest legal obstacle to Altman's equity puzzle was gone.

This lawsuit was never about "right or wrong"

Returning to that simplest question.

Does Musk really think he can win?

According to Tradingkey analysis, Musk chose to file a lawsuit during the IPO window at OpenAI to exploit legal uncertainty and disrupt OpenAI's listing rhythm.

If this analysis holds, then the 134 billion dollar claim was never the real target.

The real target was only one: to delay.

Every quarter of delay adds one more uncertainty to OpenAI's IPO and increases the relative value of his own xAI.

OpenAI’s lawyers repeatedly used the same narrative in court; this lawsuit is a "legal assault from a competitor who couldn't beat their rival in the market."

Perhaps Musk himself knows in his heart that he was never there to win. His goal was to utilize this legal tool.

But this time, even the court was unwilling to let him hold on for two more months. The nine-person jury took less than two hours to deliberate, 9 to 0. The Oakland federal court did not cooperate with Musk in this legal game.

What was missed was time

Let’s sort through this timeline.

In 2015, Musk and Altman co-founded a nonprofit AI lab.

In 2018, Musk left the board.

In 2019, OpenAI established a for-profit subsidiary.

In 2023, Musk founded his competing product xAI.

In 2024, Musk sued Altman and OpenAI.

In October 2025, OpenAI completed its PBC restructuring, retaining about 26% equity for the original nonprofit entity, while Microsoft held about 27%.

On May 18, 2026, Musk lost this lawsuit.

OpenAI's lawyers demonstrated in court that Musk himself had proposed converting OpenAI into a profit structure early on, on the condition that he retained control, and had even pushed for the company to merge with Tesla.

In other words, the person who first suggested "turning charity into business" might have been him.

It’s just that he wasn’t involved at that time.

This is a lawsuit about catching the early train or missing the last train. Musk missed that train, and what remains is just how to tell a story that isn't too ugly.

Musk's legal team reserves the right to appeal. And Judge Gonzalez Rogers directly expressed her attitude toward the appeal: "There is ample evidence to support the jury's findings."

The meaning is clear: appeal if you want; you still can’t win.

Returning to OpenAI's IPO roadmap.

OpenAI still aims for an IPO in Q4 of 2026, but analysts at PitchBook and others believe that considering the company's cost structure and the 1.15 trillion dollar long-term infrastructure commitments, the timeline is more likely to be pushed back to 2027.

1.15 trillion dollars in commitments corresponds to a company that is expected to lose 14 billion dollars and consume 17 billion dollars in cash in 2026.

This is the real problem OpenAI needs to solve.

And Musk's lawsuit has always just been an appetizer.