[ WP ] You look into the wallet of a man you just robbed at gunpoint . You find a suicide note .

I ran down a few blocks, the prop gun tucked away within my undershirt. Of course, the poor guy did not realize it, but you ’ ve got to do what you ’ ve got to do. I had not eaten a square meal for what felt like ages now, and lucked out in finding this discarded prop among other heaps of rubbish I had trawled through for a few days now. I will do this just this once, I promised myself. Just this once. 
 
 I was hoping I had scored enough cash to last me at least a week. He looked well-dressed, briefcase in hand, and what looked like sprouts of grey hair along the sides, his jacket draped over his shoulder as he headed toward the train station. The area was deserted as there was no one else around, and it wasn ’ t a very well lit station either. This was the last train coming by today. Our encounter was quick and painless, as he did not try to bargain. He complied with my request to hand over his wallet. I muttered a quick sorry and thank you sir. 
 
 Upon searching its contents, I found 3 credit cards, a twenty, and a few single dollar notes. This is good, I thought. There was a photograph within the plastic lamination of his family - the guy, his wife and their daughter, who looked to be about 10-11 years old. Good looking people. Behind the photograph within the laminated pocket, there was another piece of folded up paper. I opened it up, and squinted to read through its scribbled contents under faint streetlights. 
 
 It read: *'' To whoever finds this note, please let my wife and daughter know that I have failed them, as a husband and as a father. They deserve to know the truth. The late night'meetings' and'work-related' weekend trips I had over the last couple of months were a gross distortion of the truth. I realize this is a cowardly way out, and hope they find solace in the fact that I am no longer around to cause them any more emotional hurt. To whoever finds my remains on the tracks, I am sorry for the mess I caused. ” * 
 
 My blood froze; my eyes wide open in shock. I heard the train whistle as it sped past me, having made its stop already. Shit. I can not go back now. Should I? As far as I know, there were no other people around, no witnesses. 
 
 I have in my hands the only piece of evidence that provides ID on the guy or closure to his family. What have I done? 

