Hollywood billionaire David Ellison has faced boardroom battles, legal challenges and fierce criticism over his growing media empire. But his opponents have now taken the fight somewhere impossible to ignore—the sky above his own studio.
A small aircraft was spotted circling the Paramount lot in Los Angeles while towing a banner carrying an unmistakably profane message: “Ellison is Trump’s b—h.”
Images of the airborne insult spread rapidly across social media, turning the studio grounds into the scene of an extraordinary public humiliation for the Skydance Paramount chief executive.
The identity of the person or organization that paid for the plane remains unknown.
The protest arrived as Ellison, the son of billionaire technology magnate Larry Ellison, faces mounting accusations that his media expansion is pushing some of America’s most influential news institutions toward a more Trump-friendly political posture.
Skydance’s acquisition of Paramount placed CBS News under Ellison’s control. He subsequently installed Free Press founder Bari Weiss as head of the news division—a decision critics interpreted as part of a conservative transformation of the network.
Opponents also believe political considerations influenced Paramount’s decision to cancel Stephen Colbert’s Late Show. Colbert has been one of Trump’s most prominent television critics, while the Skydance-Paramount transaction required approval from the president’s Federal Communications Commission.

Paramount has rejected suggestions that the cancellation was politically motivated, attributing the decision to financial considerations. But the timing intensified suspicions among critics who believe Ellison was attempting to avoid antagonizing the administration.
The stakes have since become considerably larger.
Ellison is now pursuing a $111 billion acquisition of Warner Bros. The proposed deal would bring Warner Bros. Pictures, DC Studios and CNN into his expanding corporate empire.
Reports that Ellison intends to place Weiss in charge of CNN if the transaction survives its legal challenges have alarmed journalists and media-watchdog groups. They fear that two major American news organizations could ultimately fall under leadership more willing to accommodate Trump and conservative political pressure.
Ellison has publicly denied any intention of imposing his personal ideology on the newsrooms he controls.
In a recent New York Times opinion essay, he acknowledged widespread speculation about his politics, loyalties and ambitions. Ellison said he had supported candidates from both parties and held a combination of liberal and conservative beliefs.
He insisted that he did not intend to force news organizations to adopt his personal views.
Those assurances have failed to convince opponents.
Their skepticism grew after Ellison hosted an April gathering honoring Trump, an event critics portrayed as a calculated effort to strengthen his relationship with the president while major regulatory decisions remained pending.
For critics, the issue is not simply how Ellison votes. It is whether the owner of an enormous concentration of entertainment and news assets can maintain genuine editorial independence while seeking approval from an administration openly hostile to unfavorable coverage.
That tension exploded into view above Paramount’s historic lot.
As employees, visitors and protesters looked upward, the aircraft repeatedly displayed its message over the physical center of Ellison’s new media power.
At the same time, members of the Block the Merger coalition were demonstrating outside the studio. The organization supports legal efforts by state attorneys general to stop the Warner Bros. transaction.
Coalition representatives said they had gathered to thank the attorneys general challenging the deal and encourage them to continue resisting what the group has characterized as Paramount “blackmail.”
The coalition denied arranging or financing the airplane banner.
That denial left one of the day’s biggest questions unanswered: Who went to the expense and effort of hiring a plane to deliver such a personal attack?

The mystery only increased the banner’s viral power. It could have been funded by activists, industry insiders, political opponents or an individual with no formal connection to the organized protest.
Whoever arranged it understood that a conventional sign outside Paramount’s gates might attract limited attention. A profane accusation flying repeatedly over the studio was far more difficult to overlook.
For Ellison, the episode represented more than an embarrassing spectacle. It condensed the criticism surrounding his rise into one crude but devastating sentence.
His supporters may see a businessman attempting to rescue and consolidate legacy media properties facing intense financial pressure. His opponents see a billionaire using immense wealth and political access to reshape American journalism while seeking favor from Trump.
The pending merger will ultimately be determined by courts, regulators and the financial realities confronting both companies—not by a banner in the Los Angeles sky.
But the anonymous airborne protest revealed the depth of anger surrounding Ellison’s ambitions.
He may control Paramount, covet Warner Bros. and potentially hold CNN’s future in his hands. Yet on Thursday, someone else controlled the message hovering above his headquarters.
As the plane circled the studio, the billionaire’s carefully polished assurances about independence were replaced by seven brutal words—and a public humiliation visible from the ground below.
