Except for the Phantom, which contains rudimentary radar-detection circuitry, each is essentially an empty box with a 12-volt power cord, a cheap cast-plastic waveguide assembly, one or two front-mounted LEDs, a basic power-supply circuit and a button or two. Press the button and an LED lights up, accompanied by a tinny bird whistle. ("Our patented 'FM Chirp', " company salesmen proudly proclaim.) We've tested these products a dozen times against every front-line police radar gun and laser, finding all of them utterly worthless.
Interestingly, while we were riding with Texas Highway Patrol trooper Mack Wallace near Houston recently, he stopped a Dodge minivan with Colorado plates. On the dash was a spanking new Phantom jammer. The van pilot was told he'd been speeding. "Impossible," said the agitated driver, "my Phantom jammed your radar."
"Didn't seem to be doing much jamming when you came by me," deadpanned the trooper. "I got you at 69 mph in a 55 mph zone. Maybe you should take it back for a refund."
Officer's eye view of Gatso Type 24 control console. Violation speed of 73 mph is the 238th to be recorded in a two hour period. Worthless at making roads safer but spectacularly successful at generating revenue. No wonder cities love these things.
On another occasion, for a film production we had borrowed a Gatso photo radar unit, complete with marked Ford Explorer police vehicle, and were operating it next to busy six-lane I-225 near Denver. On the rear of the radar van we had mounted a giant speed display. During a break, we noticed a new Monte Carlo pass by several times, a time-consuming maneuver since it entailed a six-mile round trip between freeway exits. Then the Chevy pulled in next to us and the passenger window slid down. "I jammed your radar," the twenty-something driver said gleefully.
And how, I asked, had this been accomplished?
"With this," he said, pointing to a Phantom jammer on the dash. "I came past you three times and the sign didn't show my speed until I was right on top of the radar."
"The radar's supposed to work that way," I told him. "Target speed isn't read until the vehicle is within 50 feet."
No way, he insisted. The jammer saved him. And it worked equally well against lasers.
Whatever. Then I had an idea. "Tell you what," I told him. "We've got a new Kustom ProLaser II and an LTI Marksman. Why don't you back up about 700 feet on the shoulder and when you're ready, flash your lights and drive toward us. We'll try to get you on the lasers."
He loved the idea and backed slowly away from us. When he was in position I handed the LTI laser to an assistant and hefted the ProLaser myself. When the pleased Phantom owner flashed his lights and started rolling, we both aimed and fired. Each laser displayed a target speed before he'd gone 30 feet. On impulse I snatched up a Kustom HR-12 hand-held radar when he'd closed to about 500 feet, pulling the trigger to lock in his 35 mph target speed. When he pulled alongside, we showed him all three readouts.
"This can't be," he said. "I just paid $350 for this jammer--and it's so good they'll pay for any tickets I get."
His concern was understandable. The allure of a gadget guaranteed to make you invisible to police radar and lasers is undeniable. And nobody enjoys learning that they've been conned. But despite the fact that Rocky Mountain Radar's wares now appear in reputable mail-order catalogs, complete with promises of ticket refunds, they simply don't work. Our suggestion: save your money.