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It's so quiet as we wait for the hearings to begin that if the red-light cameras responsible for bringing us here were in the room we would surely become annoyed at the whirring of their greedy little shutters clicking away, the constant ka-ching of hefty fines plopping into city coffers.

They are scared, these people nabbed by technology when they drove too fast, too far or too soon.

Allegedly.

Or maybe they are seething, raging quietly at Big Brother as they wait their turn before the administrative hearing officer to plead their case.

Some, like Van Barber, are armed with layman law about the Safe Traffic Operations Program, or STOP, the ordinance that governs those caught on camera for running red lights or speeding.

Barber has taken extraordinary steps to document in photos, re-enactments and interviews the anatomy of the "crime" and how he did not speed in a school zone.

"I've spent probably four hours preparing for this," he tells Administrative Hearing Officer Richard Zanotti, who sits not behind a judge's bench but at a long table like someone waiting for his guest to join him for lunch.

Beside Zanotti is Lacresia Rivera, the cheerful clerk charged with the monumental task of scheduling thousands of hearings.

Next to her, a revolving series of officers man a laptop hooked to a projector on which either the video or still photo of the traffic violation can be shown like a home movie of an embarrassing moment.

It is all very chatty, very cordial and occasionally downright jovial on that side of the STOP room, which up until March 5 was a seventh-floor conference room in the City-County Building.

The STOP gang now operates out of the bigger digs of the Galleria, with three conference rooms running hearings at the same time.

"I think people would be surprised at how understanding we are," says Zanotti, one of four hearing officers. "We're not so bad."

This Big Brother, as it turns out, is more big, cuddly grandpa, extolling the wisdom of the ages along with a friendly joke or two.

But Barber is not ready to make nice. His investigation reveals that at 8:57 a.m. Oct. 27 - the time a speed van camera snapped Barber on west Central - the flashing school zone lights would have been turned off. No lights, no speeding and thus, no fine, he argues.

"I commend your efforts," Zanotti says. "Maybe we could call you as an expert witness."

Still, Barber's fact-finding mission is unnecessary. His case was already destined to be dismissed.

Nearly all 70 cases this day will be dismissed, the hearings coming past the 90-day deadline after the citation's effective date.

"Just be safe out there next time," are Zanotti's parting words.

But many motorists seem to feel cheated. They want that chance to state their case.

And so they do.

"Can I just say something?" Patricia Baskin says when she learns her citation is finito.

Her story is similar to Barber's: no flashing lights in a school zone - a school in which she teaches.

"I would have to be brain-dead not to see that yellow flashing light," she says.

Andrew Mills tells Zanotti he prepared for his case by paying for an inspection of his speedometer.

"I went to a mechanic for this," he says.

Lela McCauley-Castillo gives a whoop of relief, knowing she just missed paying a $150 fine on her citation for driving 43 mph in a 30 mph zone.

"My goodness sakes," she says. "I almost didn't come today."

In which case, she would have owed both the $150 fine and an extra $300 penalty.

Which brings us to Christopher Bleich, who wants to chat about those fines, even though he won't be paying one because his citation is also dismissed.

"These fines are a bit exuberant," the unemployed man says, grappling for words. "I was shocked."

That's the point, Zanotti says.

"The city feels the more severe penalty is going to get people's attention," he says. "This is an attention getter."

Maria Otero's attention was gotten so intensely that she shakes all morning until she learns her citation is dismissed.

"I was nervous," she quivers.

Rivera, as comforting as an arm around a shoulder, says to her, "You don't have to shake no more."

• • • • • • • • • • • •

Ron Reich thought he had nothing to fear when he arrived for his hearing on a citation for driving 11 mph over the speed limit Oct. 9.

His citation was issued Oct. 17, and here it was Jan. 30, some 15 days past the 90-day deadline.

Or so he thought.

But Chief Administrative Hearing Officer Roberto Albertorio wasn't dismissing cases so easily.

"I was amazed," Reich says.

Reich, a self-avowed research geek who studied the STOP ordinance, argued sufficiently to get a police officer to shave off a mile - an expensive mile that meant an extra $50 fine.

But Albertorio would not dismiss, cutting Reich off and handing him an order to pay up - and shut up, Reich says.

"He already had his mind made up," he says.

But so did Reich. This month, he filed a petition with state District Court in Albuquerque accusing Albertorio of "arbitrarily and capriciously" disregarding the 90-day rule.

The petition also asks the court to find that the city of Albuquerque has no jurisdiction to hear such cases. Metro Court, not the city, must hear all civil actions, he says, quoting from state statute.

Stopping the STOP ordinance with litigation has failed before, of course. The most recent attempt, which argued constitutional violations, fell flat in January.

Reich, who is not a lawyer but a Federal Aviation Administration worker, is optimistic.

"This is a perfect example of technology getting ahead of state laws," he says. "It's a mess."

Albertorio says he's not sure about Reich's particular case but admits that the issue of the effective date, which sets the 90-day deadline in motion, has caused "some misunderstandings."

Some legislation expected to be introduced in the City Council should close any loopholes.

Or litigation like Reich's will.

"The more I look into this ordinance the more I think it stinks," he says.

Besides the $100 fine, Reich has already paid $122 in court filing fees in his quest to stem the stench.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

The days of easy dismissals may be numbered anyway. STOP folks say the backlog of hearings that has forced so many dismissals should be caught up with by the end of this month.

Typically, 3 percent of those receiving citations request hearings, Albuquerque police Lt. Robert Haarhues says. As of last month, some 89,000 citations have been issued.

"That's because we have so many more cameras," he says.

But Administrative Hearing Officer Stan Harada says the number of hearing requests surged because of various radio talk show hosts who encouraged listeners to clog the system with hearing requests no matter what. This month alone, some 2,600 hearings were requested, he says.

"They wanted to see if they could break the system," he says. "But if that was their purpose, I don't think it does any service."

He knows a lot of people are angry about the program. At this week's hearing, several disgruntled citizens called him a Nazi.

"It's an abusive entitlement mentality," Harada says. "But no one has the constitutional right to violate the law.

"It's like taking your shoes and your belt off to go through the airport to get on a plane. I'd rather do that than get blown up in the air."

So he nags.

He talks about his wife, who uses a wheelchair to get around and who has almost been run down four times in the last year. None of those incidents occurred at red-light intersections.

The cameras, he says, are helping drivers to think maybe just a bit more about their driving habits.

In the past year, the 15 intersections with red-light cameras have seen a 28 percent drop in high-level trauma cases, he says.

"We all shave the corners a little bit. I know that," he says. "And really, 90 percent of the people are law-abiding 90 percent of the time. But sometimes we need to think about how we're driving. You're not going to get there any faster by speeding or running a light. But you just might save my wife. Or yourself."