Elon Musk Accuses SpaceX Rival of Hiring a Sniper to Blow Up His $200,000,000 Rocket

In one of the most bizarre and dramatic accusations ever leveled in the cutthroat world of aerospace competition, Elon Musk once suspected that a literal sniper — perched atop a rival's building — was responsible for the sudden and violent explosion of a SpaceX Falcon 9 rocket in 2016. What initially seemed like a tragic and costly accident that destroyed a $200,000,000 rocket and the Amos-6 Israeli communications satellite mounted atop it, quickly spiraled into a full-blown investigation fueled by Musk’s unrelenting paranoia, one that even drew in the FBI.

The September 1, 2016, explosion, captured on video in vivid, fiery detail, showed the Falcon 9 disintegrating in an instant during a routine static fire test. There was no launch, no countdown, just the sudden transformation of one of the world’s most sophisticated rockets into a fireball. In the wake of the incident, the aerospace community was stunned — and no one more so than Musk himself.

Awakened by the news while still at home in California, the billionaire CEO reportedly fixated on the theory that sabotage was involved. According to information obtained through a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) request by journalist Eric Berger, SpaceX engineers began seriously investigating the possibility that a sniper might have fired a projectile at the rocket's pressurized tanks, causing them to rupture and explode.

In a move that many would dismiss as unthinkable or paranoid, Musk directed his team to examine the rooftop of a nearby building owned by United Launch Alliance (ULA) — SpaceX’s chief rival — located roughly a mile from the Cape Canaveral launch pad. Engineers even went so far as to replicate the incident by firing rounds at similar tanks, attempting to see whether a well-placed shot could realistically trigger such a catastrophic failure.

This suspicion wasn’t merely a passing thought — it became a major focal point in the internal probe. The fact that the FBI later got involved speaks volumes about the gravity with which SpaceX and Musk treated the incident.

The context at the time only added fuel to Musk’s growing suspicion. SpaceX was locked in an increasingly hostile rivalry with ULA, a joint venture between Boeing and Lockheed Martin that had long dominated the government launch market.

Musk had already sued the U.S. Air Force in 2014, accusing it of anti-competitive practices and favoring ULA in a way that effectively shut out SpaceX from securing lucrative military contracts. That same year, SpaceX's Falcon 9 had suffered its first major explosion during launch, and by 2016, the company was under immense pressure to prove its reliability to NASA and the U.S. government.

The timing of the second explosion, just as NASA had begun investing heavily in SpaceX’s commercial crew program, could not have been worse. Public confidence wavered. Musk, known for his fierce competitiveness and unshakable belief in his own vision, may have viewed the explosion not merely as a technical failure, but as a deliberate effort to undermine his company’s trajectory.

The notion of a corporate sniper attack sounds like something ripped from a Hollywood thriller, but within the walls of SpaceX, it was taken seriously. This wasn’t a passing remark made in frustration — this was a theory that Musk actively pushed, despite the overwhelming skepticism of both law enforcement and aerospace experts. According to Berger’s FOIA documents, even the FBI had to formally respond.

A letter sent in October 2016 stated unequivocally that investigators found “no indications to suggest that sabotage or any other criminal activity played a role” in the explosion. Instead, the actual cause was far more mundane, though no less significant from a technical standpoint. SpaceX engineers ultimately concluded that the rocket's pressurized tanks were filled with super-cooled helium too rapidly, causing a structural failure.

A process issue — not a sniper's bullet — was to blame.

Yet Musk’s behavior in the aftermath left a lasting impression. The fact that he was so willing to entertain and promote such a dramatic theory, even directing company resources to validate it, furthered a growing narrative about Musk’s embrace of conspiracy thinking. At the time, it was a rare moment of visibility into how the billionaire processed failure and adversity.

As SpaceX faced critical government evaluations and fought tooth and nail for dominance in the launch market, Musk seemed unable — or unwilling — to accept that the explosion was simply a result of engineering error. In his mind, it had to be sabotage. It had to be war. In retrospect, this incident foreshadowed the more public displays of suspicion and combative rhetoric that would later become central to Musk’s public persona, especially in the 2020s, when he routinely launched attacks against regulatory agencies, journalists, and former allies.

Despite the absurdity of the theory and its ultimate debunking, Musk’s narrative didn’t go unnoticed. The very idea that someone could attempt to destroy a rocket using sniper fire grabbed headlines and added another layer of intrigue to SpaceX’s already high-stakes climb to the top of the aerospace industry.

And while Musk was proven wrong, his company nonetheless emerged stronger. By 2017, SpaceX had surpassed ULA’s yearly number of launches, solidifying its status as the leading private spaceflight provider. In 2019, it achieved a milestone that no private company had reached before: successfully delivering astronauts to the International Space Station.

In a way, Musk’s obsession with the sniper theory reflects both the genius and the volatility of his leadership style. He demands absolute loyalty, pursues his goals with religious intensity, and often sees opposition where none exists.

This paranoid worldview might seem irrational to outsiders, but within the high-risk, high-reward world of space exploration, it has sometimes given him the edge needed to challenge entrenched powers. However, this same mindset can alienate allies, sow internal fear, and distract from real technical issues. Critics argue that Musk’s focus on conspiracy and sabotage reveals a deep aversion to accountability.

Rather than confronting the internal mistakes that led to the Falcon 9 explosion, Musk chose to point fingers and paint a narrative of betrayal.

Yet even with all the drama, the end result was unmistakable. SpaceX learned from its failure, retooled its fueling procedures, and came back stronger.

The company’s rise was not derailed. In fact, it may have been accelerated by the intense scrutiny and public pressure that followed the explosion. If anything, Musk’s bizarre theory — though debunked — reinforced the mythos surrounding him. He is not merely an entrepreneur or a CEO.

In the minds of his supporters and detractors alike, he is a man constantly battling hidden forces, often of his own imagining. And while the sniper never existed, the explosion of 2016 remains a pivotal moment in SpaceX’s story — a flashpoint that revealed just how high the stakes were, and how far Musk was willing to go to protect his vision.