This Form Should Be Used To Place Stop Payments On A Check At The Bank (I: Fill & Download for Free

Yes.I live on a houseboat. Because the water starts shallow and gets deeper further away from the bank (normal situation in a river or at the side of a dyke), the boat has to be moored at a distance from the bank (in our case about 6 metres). Obviously, a way of getting on and off the boat is required, which means a ‘bridge’ of some sort. The boat is 22 metres long, so a ‘bridge’ of the same width seems to make sense; let’s call it a jetty. This makes it possible to clean windows without running the risk of falling into the drink.Anyway, one Sunday afternoon, I was repairing the jetty that we had bought with the boat. It had been poorly constructed so I was building a more robust version - that is, until I stepped on a loose plank, fell and slid down the bank towards the water, while my right leg decided to take a different direction, breaking the fibula - what a nuisance!. I soaked my leg in cold water until the immediate pain was dulled, and decided to stop working on the jetty for the rest of the day.Now, I was employed by a software house / consultancy, and had been sent to a customer in Amsterdam to document a system they were using, but which had been created by a sister company in Paris. I had spent 8 months travelling back and forth between Paris and Amsterdam, learning from the Parisians about the system, translating what meagre French documentation there was and basically re-documenting the whole system in English and in Dutch. I had one more week planned, but had a lot of work to do.Next day, I drove to the client and continued my work, dragging my right leg a bit, as it was inconveniently painful. By the end of the week I had just about finished the job, and just needed a couple of hours over the weekend to tidy up the end report, the Management report and document introduction. I completed these at home with time to spare, and was scheduled to present the finished product at 11:00 on the Monday.Got to the office, had a PA type out the last page of handwritten material, put the report and document all together, and photocopy the one page summary for each of the managers. I presented it all, they were very happy. At the end of the meeting I asked if they would mind if I took the rest of the day off to go to the hospital.At the hospital my leg was x-rayed. The radiologist asked in horror how long I’d been walking on it! I was given a tight elastic bandage to hold it all in place and was told to go home and stay of the leg for at least three weeks, but preferably six.I called the client and said I wouldn’t be there for a while. I’d finished the project, but they had requested me to stay on for a couple more weeks to ‘teach’ some of their IT staff the intricacies of the system. They said there was no problem or rush, and that I could come back to do that when the leg was good again.I called my boss and told him I had to stay off the leg for a while. Two or three days later he turned up in his fat Mercedes, stinking of the cigars he used as status symbols, and TOLD me I had to sell my home and get something safer, like a house or apartment! It was not good enough that I was out of action (read: “Not making money for him”) and he wanted me back in the saddle next week!I suggested he get in touch with the doctor at the hospital and ask him if I should go back to work so soon - I said, if the doctor says it’s OK, I’ll be back next week. He didn’t check with the doctor, of course, and left, disgruntled.After a few weeks I returned to the client and spent a few weeks there, coaching their staff. When it was all done, I was treated to a leaving party (in my local!) and presented with a large whiteboard. I was sorry to leave that client, and they were sorry to see me go.Even though I had been to the client, and my boss had been paid for it, I still officially had another week or two in which I was supposed to rest my leg, so after the coaching session, I informed my boss I needed to rest it for another week or so, as I had been overdoing it in the interests of the client. He wasn’t happy, but couldn’t actually make me go against doctor’s ordersAt the time, at the request of my wife, I had been growing my hair and wearing it in a short pony-tail. Halfway through the first week of resting and healing the leg, he called again with the message that this wasn’t good enough and he wanted me in the office for a ‘serious talk’.A friend of mine had just been invited to join a new consultancy start-up and asked if I’d be interested. I was. Was interviewed (during my recuperation) and invited to join the start-up (at a higher salary). I accepted and a date was agreed upon - I was supposed to give my current boss a month’s notice, but I decided I would just give a weeks notice and resign, perhaps losing the last month’s salary, but I was fed up with the situation and his snotty attitude and constant push for me to sell my home.I turned up for the ‘serious talk’ on the appointed day, still limping. First thing he said was “You’ll have to get your hair cut, and have you given any thought to getting rid of your boat and buying a real home?” I told him I wouldn’t cut my hair without consulting my wife, nor would I consider selling my home; I was paid by him to work, and I had just left an extremely happy client, so he really had nothing to complain about. He said, again, I should sell the boat and get an apartment, because he would then have more assurance that I wouldn’t break something and have to stay off work as that cost him too much money!I stayed polite but firm and told him I would not sell the boat, but I might consider cutting my hair AFTER consultation with my wife. This defiance ruffled his controlling nature and, stupidly, he reacted with “Then we have a problem”.He told me he thought I ought to leave the company. If I preferred, he would give me a month’s notice, but I didn’t need to come back to the office again. I looked hesitant, I suppose, because then he offered me a large cash payment on top of that!So I accepted. I didn’t have to give notice, or go back to the office (in another city, driving in heavy traffic twice a day) AND I got a chunk of money as well!The following Monday, I went to my new place of employment, much closer to home and with a new, intelligent, boss who was very easy to get on with.Phew! Sorry to have gone on so long, but that was cathartic! LOL

When my husband looked at me and said “I should have stayed married to my first wife”. Denied it the next day. It didn’t matter. He had been too gorked to remember he said it but I knew he meant it from the depth’s of his soul. If there was anything positive about his prescription/illicit drug use, it was that one moment of honesty that the Lord allowed to slip out of his mouth.I married what I thought was a good man. Smart, neat, fourteen years my senior and from a well established and respected family in the community. I adored him. I thought he adored me and saw our combined love and common goals giving us a great future.I graduated as an RN and climbed the ranks in the company. About year two of my career he decided since I was making good money, he could quit his job any time he felt slighted or a particular assignment pushed him more than he thought fair. He lost six good jobs that way over the course of three years.The doctor diagnosed depression. He was prescribed an antidepressant and seemed to do bette but he couldn’t hold a job. He said but he was struggling with “other people laying their crap on him” during the work day. “Really man? That’s a thing?” said the sarcastic witch in my head. He heard “it’s ok we’ll figure it out.” I loved him dearly. My daughter and I were beginning to see less affection and interest in our daily lives from him but I kept the faith.“How about college and house husband then? You’re a smart guy.” “Ok” he says with the enthusiasm of Eeyore. School never materialized but the house husband role settled in. He was a clean fanatic so he thrived for awhile. I was so happy with his new found energy. I compromised and accepted the reverse role as enough. Went well for about six months and then it didn’t.He became surly and paranoid. He would go from mowing the yard at night by spotlight to sleeping for three days. I sought him the best mental health care I could find and made sure his family physician stayed well informed and involved. Little did I know it would backfire.I received a promotion that required me to be out of town two weeks a month. I accepted with trepidation but knew my current role was coming to an end and i had to keep the bills paid. I lined up my mom, grandma and mom in law to handle my daughter’s coming and goings and extra daily hugs so my husband would not be overwhelmed with her active pre teen life. He seemed ok with it. I had plans. I could build us a nest egg with the extra money in addition to paying the monthly bills with the bigger salary I justified in my head. He’d be ok. I knew it.Another six months forward, my husband now complained of panic attacks and anxiety. Our physician’s answer was to prescribe progressively higher doses of Valium over the course of a year until he was taking 80mg of Valium a day. I asked the physician to keep me informed of any changes so I could support my husband at home. I was oblivious there had been any changes. When I asked my husband, he would say everything was fine/no changes after his doctor’s appointments. For anyone who knows the drug, 80mg a day is a lot of Valium. It could have easily killed an adult unused to taking the strong benzodiazepine. He’d stopped seeing the excellent psychiatrist I’d found through my colleagues. I asked him why. “He didn’t need the guys seeing him near the man’s office.” he said.The last few months of our fourteen year marriage…After seeing my daughter off to summer camp, I helped my husband be placed in an inpatient rehab. I knew he had a disease…an addiction. I can carry a lot on my shoulders but they were bowing a bit with it all. I was hopeful for his recovery but I was doubtful. I accepted an eight week assignment that included a nice bonus. His inpt care would last six to eight weeks minimum. His mom and dad would see after him and as they saw it, ensure discretion. They didn’t want the congregation to catch word of our troubles and possibly stain the family reputation. Anyway, I knew they’d see after his needs. In hindsight, I probably should have stayed. I see now I was running from it all. I’d felt no love for him For a long time. This wasn’t suppose to be my life.During the seventh week of the assignment, our banker calls. We’re three months behind on our mortgage and $12,000 overdrawn. Excuse me, what!? This was the days before cell phones and internet banking/bill pay. I was in charge of our finances. I was 2500 miles away. I begged the banker to give me time to get home and straighten it out. Make up a sick relative to my boss and fly home through the night to meet the banker at nine the next morning.I met with the banker. Our money troubles all true. We were broke and owed a lot of overdrafts and bounced checks. My in-laws had kept him out of jail for uttering such large amounts. Each check written made out simply to Cash. Again keep in mind this was pre-internet days. You wrote a check by showing your drivers license at the curb store or grocery store. It would take a month sometimes for a check to clear the bank so you could write for dollars way beyond the actual amount you owned if you did it quickly.Seems our latest financial difficulties started when my mother-in-law gifted us a $150k CD of deposit two months before.My husband opened a separate checking account and deposited the CD money. He never said a word to me about it. He knew my check covered our expenses with no extra. He knew my car was on its last leg. He knew the house could use a new roof. Mother-in-law seemed to let it slip her mind to mention about the gift too. I never quite understood why. She knew how I often picked up shifts on Saturdays at the local nursing home to pay for cheerleading outfits or softball uniformsAfter the meeting with the banker, I sit in front of the bank speechless and overwhelmed. All the woulda, coulda, shouldas started racing through my head. How could he have done this to us?? I felt so betrayed and embarrassed. Oh, and the mortgage payments? I would ask my husband to take care of it the first of each month since he had time to go to the bank. Never a problem before.Seems he had begun to use the house payment to buy cocaine. Saw that one coming didn’t you? Wish I had. He hid his drug use very well. He had enough control to keep himself in check when I was around. He was very good. I’m trained to see it and saw nothing.After a gut wrenching cry, I go home. He doesn’t know I’m back in town. Apparently he had spent the past four weeks snorting all that money up his nose with some old friends from high school. I never knew him to do the harder drugs so I was absolutely stunned. The coke apparently altered his ability to do math. He had overdrawn his new bank account. The one with the $150k in it his mama gave him. The overdraft amounts were recovered from our joint checking account at the same time our monthly bills hit. Before the fiasco was over, we were $12k in arrears.I find out about the cocaine and constant party from his best friend. He was friends with our banker who mentioned I was coming in to see him the next day. Being close enough to us to know i was due home the following week, he suspected my upcoming early presence was caused by my husband’s behavior final being out in the open Knowing the time of our appt in the bank, best friend was waiting for me when I came out. He spent the next hour absolving himself by telling me about my husband’s many indiscretions. He said he warned my husband I would be devastated by his behavior but loyalty kept him from telling me until it was too late. I felt like I was far away as I listened. It was like I was looking at the world through a small hole. And it got even worse.I arrive home shell shocked and more tired than I’d ever been. I sit in the carport trying to muster the strength to go in. The grass in the front yard was up to my knees. My husband is sitting in the recliner. Did I mentioned he checked out of rehab week two?He was wearing the same clothes I saw him in last. The house was a disaster and smelled terrible. The pool was green. The dog wasn’t tended too and had messed all over the rugs. I sit down across from him. I knew he was out of money thus out of coke. The slitted eyes said Valium again.I lay out everything I’d learned, how heartbroken and betrayed I felt and how I didn’t feel I could go on with things as they were. He looked me dead in the face and he said it. MY FIRST WIFE. All of the love, care, worry, and excuses I’d poured out for this man! I wished he’d stayed married to his first wife too until I realized I wouldn’t have had my daughter. She was worth every minute of it. We divorced. He remarried within a few months of our divorce being final. He died at the age of 57 from a Fentanyl overdose. Oh, and not the street kind. It was prescribed by his family‘a physician.-SPS Forgive the length. This is the first time I’ve written it all down and it was rather purgative.

This is ‘holder in due course’ doctrine.I even got out my B Law text to make sure I had all the pieces.The check is a negotiable instrument.When it is transferred to a third party, in good faith, and with no notice of any issues, like the stop pay notice, the holder in due course (third party) has the right to collect from the original maker.You issued the check. You gave it to the payee. You then issued a stop pay order.Your payee cashed the check at the check cash store, who accepted it in good faith, and then became a holder in due course. When the check was deposited into the banking system, and reached your bank, the bank returned the check to the depositor with ‘refer to maker’ tagged on it.Because the check cash store is a holder in due course, you owe the check cash store the money. It should still be in your bank account. It belongs in the check cash store’s.This will also teach you to make sure you really want to pay someone when you hand them a check.BTW why are you using checks anyway?