Seminole County, Oklahoma

The Seminole County Sheriff’s Office, based at 211 East Second Street in Wewoka, keeps the county jail and posts a continuously refreshed inmate roster on its own site. That listing — the Inmate Search at seminolecosheriff.com — reloads about once an hour and shows who is in custody at the moment, when they were booked, the charges against them, and any bond that has been set. Anyone arrested across the county, whether by a sheriff’s deputy or by an officer from the Wewoka, Seminole, or Konawa police, lands in this Wewoka jail for processing. The booking line is (405) 257-6235, and Oklahoma’s statewide VINE service gives families a second way to follow a person’s custody status by phone or online.

From here you can page through recent Seminole County mugshots in arrest-date order, step west to neighboring Pottawatomie County, or compare the numbers against the far larger Oklahoma County around the state capital. The Oklahoma mugshots hub gathers every county we track across the state.

About Seminole County

Organized at statehood in 1907 and named for the Seminole Nation — whose tribal government is still seated in Wewoka — the county spreads across roughly 640 square miles of rolling east-central Oklahoma and counts about 23,500 residents. Its best-known place is not its capital: the city of Seminole, with its junior college and old downtown, pulled ahead of Wewoka during the oil years, yet Wewoka, a Muscogee word usually rendered “barking waters,” has held the seat of county government since the start. Konawa, Bowlegs, Maud, Cromwell, and Sasakwa fill out the roster of smaller towns.

Oil wrote the county’s history. Output was thin until a well near Wewoka came in at 2,800 barrels a day in the spring of 1923; three years later the Earlsboro and Seminole City strikes of 1926 opened a sprawling play that oil-page editors soon dubbed the Greater Seminole Field. When the Fixico No. 1 blew in as a 6,000-barrel gusher that same year, the town of Seminole ballooned almost overnight from about 850 people into a roughneck city of 25,000 to 30,000. Some fifty pools were eventually mapped in and around the county, and between 1926 and 1929 they gave up more than 250 million barrels. The frenzy passed, but pumpjacks still nod over the fields that put the county on the map, with farming and ranching filling in the rest of the local economy.