It was a shameful secret in Florida: A state whose leaders demonized undocumented migrants had built countless miles of roadways and bridges on the backs of illegal immigrant laborers.
And with tragic consequences.
The Tampa Bay Times meticulously detailed how road-building giant Archer Western exploited these workers and put them at risk. The reporting culminated in a powerful story, exposing how the state of Florida repeatedly contracted with a company whose workers died at an alarming rate, even after officials learned of some deaths.
The reporters hunted down thousands of pages of records from agencies throughout Florida and the country. They compared Archer Western’s safety record to industry peers — something no other news outlet had done. What they discovered was a spate of deaths that left construction safety experts aghast.
When we published our story in October 2025, it challenged narratives about undocumented immigrants and their place in our society.
In the fall of 2024, I moderated two Tampa Bay Times “Spotlight Tampa Bay” community event series, in which I led panel discussions about important topics affecting local residents.
In September, the Tampa Bay Times partnered with the AARP to host a series about family caregiving. In Florida, 2.7 million families grapple with the cost related to caring for aging parents and adults or children with disabilities.
In December, the Tampa Bay Times partnered with TECO Energy to host a panel discussion about hurricane hardening. Florida and Tampa Bay endured a historic hurricane season in 2024, weathering landfalls from a trio of storms — Debby, Helene and Milton. The storms brought record-breaking storm surge, heavy rainfall and powerful winds that wreaked havoc across the region. These events led to widespread power outages, overwhelmed wastewater systems and thousands of tons of contaminated debris.
You can learn more about the Tampa Bay Times Spotlight Tampa Bay series here.
Throughout 2024, I edited a series of investigative stories by Tampa Bay Times business reporters highlighting the growing influence of corporate ownership over Tampa Bay and Florida’s residential rental pool. Over seven installments, Buying Up The Bay explored how private equity firms are buying up single family housing in Florida at record breaking rates, raising prices on tenants and clogging up local courts with a high volume of evictions.
Times reporter Justine Griffin measures her blood pressure while video-chatting with adult medicine doctor Saadia Malik inside the Walk-In Care kiosk provided by BayCare inside the Publix supermarket at Shoppes of Lithia in Valrico. Stored in cubbies along either side of the screen are six medical tools to help doctors make a diagnosis — a thermometer, a pulse oximeter, a “derm cam” to take photos of skin issues like rashes, a blood pressure measurement device, an otoscope and a stethoscope. [ALESSANDRA DA PRA | Times]
My editing roles were expanded in 2023 to oversee our health care reporters and entire health care coverage. This includes producing our annual Medicare enrollment guide, coverage of local hospitals, universities, research trends, health policy and more.
It’s great to expand on my knowledge as a former health care reporter and help shape our future coverage.
I grew up inside St. Angelo’s Pizza in New Port Richey. It’s the business my dad started when he was in his 20s and looking for a change from the bitter winters of Buffalo, N.Y.
Fast-forward 40 years, and the restaurant with the “Original Chicken Wings” sign out front on the corner of Madison Avenue and State Road 54 is still the first place I drive to when I want to see my dad.
His business has weathered many hurricanes — often feeding neighbors for days in the aftermath when nobody else had power or A.C. He survived the 2008 recession, and slow changes to the West Pasco neighborhood as growth shifted to the eastern end of the county, like Trinity and Wesley Chapel.
But as we read the headlines every day, announcing new limitations and shutdowns on businesses related to the coronavirus pandemic, I fear for him and his livelihood.
My dad, Brian Griffin, is old school. Everything about his business is still written down on takeout slips and scratched into notebooks. He got his first iPhone just last year, and he still doesn’t know how to send a text. Dad has mastered how to capture and upload a photo, though. He regularly updates the St. Angelo’s Pizza Facebook page with images of handwritten messages he’s scribbled on a whiteboard. I think his social media strategy is quite charming.
Small businesses across Tampa Bay are caught up in the unknown — of what tomorrow, or next week, or next month, or the next six months will bring. Service workers are being laid off in all counties, at a time when they’re being told to stay home instead of hitting the streets to find a new source of income.
It’s hard for me to watch my dad worry. He delayed his retirement to pay for my wedding. He’s the hardest-working man I know, and he instilled those values in me.
Dad would hand-deliver me homemade lunch when I was in elementary school. He’d never forget a side of black olives — my favorite snack. Once I got to high school, I wasn’t only his daughter but also his employee. I graduated from answering phones and jotting down delivery orders to being a waitress. I loathed it, and once begged my dad to let me quit so I could get a job next door at Publix.
He wouldn’t let me. His defense was: “You’re going to do this job now so you’ll go to college and won’t have to do it anymore.” Those waitressing skills kept cash in my pocket throughout my college years.
On Friday, the day Gov. Ron DeSantis ordered restaurants statewide to offer takeout and delivery only, I made the familiar drive from my home in St. Petersburg to see my dad. I found him standing next to the old pizza oven. He had flour in his long hair and his beard, and there were three pies about to go in for baking.
The dining room was dark. The chairs were stacked upside down on the tables. But the phones were buzzing. I took a pizza and delivered it nearby.
People lined up at the takeout counter to place orders. Many addressed my dad by a nickname reserved only for close friends: Griff. As he cashed out one man in his 20s, my dad told him to say hello to his parents for him. He joked with a mom who’d preferred to stand in the lobby near the hot kitchen than sit in her minivan with her husband and kids.
“They’ll be home for who knows how much longer. I could use a break,” she joked.
My dad thanked everyone who came in that day for their business, like he always does. But on that Friday, amid the growing chaos of the coronavirus pandemic, I know their support meant even more.
